


The Awesomes

by blue_fjords



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-02
Updated: 2012-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:53:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_fjords/pseuds/blue_fjords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty years after going into hiding, the former Mr. Awesome and Righteous Man are attempting to raise their family in peace and quiet. But peace and quiet does not find them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Awesomes

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many words of thanks and praise to my betas for going above and beyond the call of duty! kel_reiley and paragraphs, you guys deserve dozens of vegan cupcakes. Written for dc_everafter in March of 2011, reposted here in its entirety. Based on Disney's "The Incredibles."

_Twenty years ago, superheroes still walked the earth, and it shook with each mighty footstep. The hills echoed with the cries of heroes and villains, engaged in fierce battle. Secret caves were well-stocked with super-powered vehicles and laboratories, and stock in spandex soared. 'Nary a day passed by when some little tyke couldn't look to the sky and see a valiant protector soaring past, fighting for truth, justice and free will. And as anyone could tell you, the most awesome of these protectors was the man himself, Mr. Awesome._

_Calm in the face of certain danger, cranky in the face of evil-doers, Mr. Awesome was that most fearsome of creatures: a righteous man. How fitting, then, that one day in the midst of doing awesome deeds, he met a fellow superhero, Righteous Man, and fell totally and completely in love with him. Once they joined forces with Mind's Eye, the younger brother of Righteous Man, they became this nigh-unstoppable unit, Team Free Will._

_The fearless trio roamed all over, saving people, hunting things – a virtual family business once Mr. Awesome and Righteous Man made it official and tied the knot. Their future looked brighter than the sun._

_And then came The Troubles. Jealous of the strength and good looks, not to mention unusually long lifespan, of the superheroes, Senator Azazel started a movement to de-super all superheroes. Citing the massive collateral damage in metropolitan areas and individual testimony from people such as Bela Talbot, who claimed Righteous Man had saved her life when she didn't want to be saved and Madison Wolf, who claimed living next door to Mind's Eye diminished her quality of life, as he kept her up at night by practicing moving his furniture with his mind, Senator Azazel succeeded in getting a hearing ordered before Congress._

_The hearing was a disaster. The superheroes looked small and vulnerable in the courtroom, and hugely out-of-place in their bright costumes amongst the dull grays and blacks of Congress. Mr. Awesome's fabled stoicism ill-served him in the hearing, as he came across as distant and emotionless. Congress, speaking as The People, directed their vitriol at him. Righteous Man lost his temper at the callous treatment of his husband and had to be escorted from the building after breaking a table with one clenched fist._

_In the end, Senator Azazel's movement was successful, and the supers were stripped of their names and forced into hiding with secret identities. The mother-daughter team of Tough and Sassy went to somewhere in the Midwest, the curmudgeonly Badger into a bottle of Jack's, the whizz kid Mulletman to Vegas – and Mr. Awesome, Righteous Man and Mind's Eye, inseparable as always, first to the Pacific Northwest, then New England, then Texas, then Florida, then Ohio, finally winding up in Southern California. Life continued, and over time, Mr. Awesome and Righteous Man were blessed with a daughter and two sons, in the nature of superheroes. And for the time being, those children had only one set of names, the same as their fathers. Just an ordinary family._

_But it was impossible for them to forget being Awesome._

_And they weren't the only ones who remembered._

***

Castiel Novak worked in the smallest cubicle in a sea of cubicles, on the thirteenth floor out of thirty-two, pushing paper for Zachariah Adler's Righteous Insurance. Castiel was an accountant, processing insurance claims that were to be paid out to the policyholders. As Mr. Zachariah Adler felt that no claims should ever be paid out, and Castiel believed in truthfulness and fairness, they butted heads on a frequent basis. On this particular Tuesday, they butted heads quite spectacularly.

"Tell me, Castiel." Zachariah's voice was smooth and oily, and not a word left his lips that was not thoroughly tested for the maximum allowance of condescension. Castiel loathed it. "Can you read this pamphlet?"

He tapped the company's glossy business pamphlet, his eyes bugging out a bit as he waited for Castiel's answer.

"I am capable of reading that pamphlet," Castiel said, keeping his voice even.

"That's good, Castiel. I suggest you give it a look-see, and soon. Let's start now. What does it say on the cover? Whose name is that?"

Castiel entertained a very brief, and very violent, daydream of crushing Zachariah's head like a grape between his hands. "It says 'Zachariah Adler's Righteous Insurance,' and Zachariah Adler is your name."

"That's right!" Zachariah sat back in his chair and swung his legs up to prop them on his desk. "My name! My company!" He gave Castiel a broad smirk. "That means that I am God of this company, and what I say goes."

Castiel waited a beat before standing up. "If you are finished with your lecture, I have more claims to process."

Zachariah's lips thinned into a straight line. "I did not dismiss you."

Castiel gave him a flat stare. It worked almost as well on Zachariah Adler as it used to on dastardly villains. His feet re-connected with the floor and he looked down at the pamphlet, unnecessarily smoothing the paper.

"It's good we had this talk, Castiel. Just you remember it. You may go."

Castiel was already turning on his heel. He ground his teeth as he marched to the stairs. He was much too agitated to take the elevator and practically flew back down to the thirteenth floor.

Working a "normal" job was something he just could not get the hang of. This was his fourth job, and they seemed to be getting worse. He'd stayed home when the kids were born, changing their diapers and singing them to sleep at naptime when they were very small, and bandaging their scraped knees and cutting the crusts off their peanut butter sandwiches as they grew older. But once Balthazar started school full-time, Castiel entered the workforce and immediately regretted it. He'd entertained the idea of asking Dean if they could try for another baby, but dismissed it as illogical. They should not bring an additional life into the world simply because he was having difficulty adjusting to civilian life and missed the feel of a tiny hand in his.

He had six more cases waiting on his desk when he got back to his cubicle. Six more cases that Zachariah would dismiss out-of-hand. He picked up the first one and gave it his full attention. It was likely the only justice it would receive.

***

Dean Winchester liked his job. Though "like" was perhaps too strong a word. He didn't mind his job. It wasn't what he wanted to be doing, but the hours were just right.

When he first went undercover with Castiel and Sam, he had thought they would just get real jobs as civilian heroes – firemen, EMT's, jobs like that. After all, they saved people all the time and no one held Congressional hearings to destroy _their_ faith in humanity. (Dean was perhaps a bit bitter over Senator Azazel's movement, especially the effect it had had on the two people he loved more than anything.) However, there was a clause in the government's undercover placement paperwork: superheroes were not to use their powers outside of their homes.

Dean had ignored it, at first. He got a job as an EMT and lifted a car off a trapped woman outside Seattle. She had been unconscious, but his fellow EMT's saw and asked questions that raised red flags, and led to the family's first relocation. The same thing had happened in Portland, Oregon, and Castiel fell into a deep funk. He and Sam sat around asking existential questions about identity while Dean tried to find a non-heroic job in Portland, Maine. Their saving grace arrived with the birth of their daughter, snapping Castiel out of his funk, galvanizing Sam to apply to graduate schools, and bringing so much joy into their lives, Dean could forget what it was like to be a superhero and focus on being a Dad-hero instead.

It worked for a while. They moved again for Sam to attend graduate school, and again for his internship, while Dean and Castiel became fathers twice more. Castiel was happy raising the kids, Sam was happy with school and Dean was happy that they were happy.

The trouble started seven years ago when Balthazar started school. Castiel felt he should get a job, the government gave him a falsified work history as part of the undercover package, and soon they were moving again, as Mr. Awesome's famed calm did not extend to the workplace. His famed crankiness did, however, and they moved once more. Dean did his best to soothe him, but it was difficult for him, too.

Finally they wound up in Southern California, in a small town a few miles off the coast, halfway between Los Angeles and San Diego. Sam opened his own practice and got reacquainted with Dean's least favorite of his past girlfriends, and then up and married her. Castiel started one job, quit before he completely lost his cool, and moved on to a new one. The two oldest kids began to discover their powers, and Dean eagerly welcomed the distraction. It was good for them, he thought, but sometimes he could see a look in Castiel's eyes late at night when they were alone in their bed, sweaty skin sliding together just like always, and though Castiel was inside him, Dean could tell his mind was a thousand miles and twenty years away. It was only a matter of time, he knew, before Castiel would erupt and Dean didn't know if even he was strong enough to put him back together again.

Most days he tamped down his worries and covered them with a quick grin and a witty (or not so witty) quip. But they were always there, just under the surface, eating away at him while he worked at his part-time job writing and editing for the town paper, a tiny publication that managed to get by on the efforts of just two part-time employees, Dean and Ava Wilson. The best thing about working for a newspaper in a town that never had any news was the ability to leave work at the drop of a hat when the high school called to report that Gabriel Winchester-Novak was at the principal's office yet again, and could one of his fathers please show up for a meeting with Principal Henrikson?

Dean pulled up outside the high school and put the Impala in park. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel as he surveyed the blocky building.

"This fucking sucks," he said out loud.

Gabriel was waiting on a bench in the hallway outside the office, his feet swinging several inches off the floor. Dean had assured him that Sam was also a shrimp when he was fourteen, and look at him now! Cas's family was not particularly tall, though, but Dean kept that bit to himself. 

The look Gabriel gave Dean was a mix of guilt, defiance, amusement and relief. Dean grit his teeth. He hated this aspect of being the one with the flexible hours, but he and Cas had agreed that one of them should be available for these impromptu meetings, as there were so many. He held out his free hand to Gabriel, and hauled him to his feet, both to offer assurance and to prevent him from running away. 

"Courage, Squirt. Time to face the music," Dean murmured. Gabriel squeezed his hand briefly, and Dean squeezed back. He had been in Gabriel's place too many times as a kid to do any less, though he had no problem with dropping hands before leading his son into the principal's office to meet his doom.

Principal Henrickson sat behind his desk, fingers steepled and tolerant if slightly annoyed expression on his face. Standing beside him was Gabriel's biology teacher, Mr. Walker, another matter entirely. It didn't help that Dean and Gordon Walker had hated each other on sight. Apparently Gabriel had adopted his father's attitude. Dean _really_ didn't want to know how Gabriel was using his (quickly growing) powers to torment his teacher.

"Principal Henrikson! To what do we owe this honor?" Dean asked, giving his best shit-eating grin as he lowered himself into one of the visitor chairs. In the chair next to him, Gabriel's feet still didn't reach the floor.

"I'm going to let Mr. Walker tell you what he told me." The words were barely out of his mouth before Gordon Walker surged forward, fist clenched.

"Your child is incredibly disrespectful, Mr. Novak!"

"I'm Mr. Winchester," Dean answered, a note of steel creeping into his voice. Cas was the one with the deep, gruff voice, but sometimes Dean could rival him.

"Gabriel is disruptive in class. It is detrimental to the rest of the students!" Mr. Walker continued, ignoring Dean's correction.

"What has he _done_?" Dean asked, reminding himself to be patient.

"He laughs!"

Silence followed the pronouncement until Dean sighed.

"What does he laugh at, Mr. Walker?"

"It's – she means no harm by it. It's Gabriel who causes the disturbances!"

Dean frowned and leaned forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Principal Henrickson also looking at Mr. Walker, a quizzical wrinkle in his brow.

"So, let me get this straight," Dean started. "Another student, who has not been brought to the principal's office and had a parent called in, keeps making disrespectful jokes in your classroom, and Gabriel laughs at them."

Mr. Walker opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "She does not mean anything disrespectful by them."

"You informed me that Gabriel here was the ringleader of a group of troublemakers in your classroom," Principal Henrikson said slowly. "But who is this other student? We should meet with the class clown." He directed his attention at Gabriel. "Young man. It's entirely possible that your fellow student is being egged on, so to speak, by the reaction they receive from classmates."

"She's pretty funny," Gabriel muttered to his shoes.

"Regardless," Principal Henrikson continued. "Can we agree to try not to laugh at jokes that might contain questionable material?"

_Might as well try to stop the sun from rising_ , Dean thought, but held his tongue.

Gabriel nodded, widening his eyes in an attempt to look innocent.

"Thank you." Principal Henrikson stood, and both Dean and Gabriel shot to their feet. The principal shook both their hands, just as the bell signaling the end of the school day rang loudly. "My apologies for calling you in unnecessarily, Mr. Winchester.

"No problem. Had to pick them up anyhow." Dean reached over and took Mr. Walker's hand in a vise-like grip. "It's been too long since Parent-Teacher night, Gordon. Take care." He gave him a particularly hard squeeze before letting go.

Gabriel gathered his backpack and followed him wordlessly down the hall and out to the Impala. Dean waited until the doors were closed before turning in the front seat to narrow his eyes at Gabriel in the back.

"Okay, spill. What was that _really_ about?"

"I don't know why he was blaming _me_ , Dad! I only laughed!" Gabriel fiddled with a strap on his backpack, trying to gauge if Dean bought his story.

"Gabe. I am your father. I do not for a second believe that farce we went through. Speak."

Gabriel sighed. "Mr. Walker's a douche, okay? I'm good at biology, but he would never call on me. So I, maybe, wanted to get him back. A little."

"And you . . . ?"

"Maybe made myself a friend who said everything I wanted to?"

Dean did a double-take. "You . . . what?"

"I made this student, and Walker liked her, so she could get away with it."

Dean's mind reeled. How the hell had Gabriel progressed so quickly? And– "Wait, what was she getting away with?"

"She could just say stuff. Like when we did Survival of the Fittest, she asked how Walker had survived, and when we did biological urges, she made a very innocent comment on how there were no little Walkers running around." He was starting to speak very quickly now, and Dean knew they were heading towards the piece de resistance. "And today she asked why the phrase was 'fucking like bunnies' when she knew some humans who went at it even when their kids were downstairs playing Wii."

Dean blinked. "You discussed your fathers' sex life in biology class? That is so–"

"No, _I_ didn't, Dad! _She_ did!"

"Gabriel Winchester-Novak, that is the same thing and you know it."

"I just wanted to make fun of Mr. Walker without getting into trouble," Gabriel mumbled. "He's mean to me."

"I'm sorry, kiddo. Sometimes adults don't act very mature either." He let out a huff. Instead of telling his fathers he was having trouble with a teacher, Gabriel was trying to handle everything on his own. Dean didn't know whether to burst with pride or cringe. It was time for a different tact. "So. You _made_ an entire girl, she attends classes and everything, just to take the heat off you?" Dean's eyebrows were well within aim of his hairline now. "And let me guess. She's a hot blonde."

"It wouldn't have worked if she wasn't hot, Dad." Gabriel tried the puppydog eyes, but he hadn't inherited them. Thank God.

"What's her name? Bambi McSnuffy or something?" Dean snorted as Gabriel tried to hide his smirk. "Jesus, Gabe. You're definitely my son," he muttered.

Gabriel grinned at him in the rearview mirror before a cloud passed over his expression. "Are you going to tell Dada?"

Dean sighed. On the one hand, he hated keeping secrets from Cas and really sucked at it. Also, if Gabriel was progressing in his powers enough to do something as complicated as Bambi, Cas should definitely know about it. But on the other hand, Cas was under a lot of stress at work and most certainly did not need the added worry.

"I haven't decided, Squirt." Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "What the hell is taking Anna so long? Didn't I tell her 2:30 in front of the sycamore tree?"

He almost missed the flicker in Gabriel's eyes, but fourteen years as his father had taught Dean to notice when Gabriel was about to tell a whopper. He held up his hand as Gabriel opened his mouth.

"Nope! Whatever you were going to say, can it. You know exactly where your sister is, and you're going to tell me." He kept an inward count as he held Gabriel's gaze in the mirror. At 'four,' Gabriel let out an explosive breath.

"Okay, okay! She's right outside the car."

Dean's head whipped around. There was nothing outside the Impala. He climbed out the driver's side door and slammed it angrily. "Anna Winchester-Novak, if you are running around school _naked_ – " 

His voice cut off in a strangled yelp. There were two outlines of wings coming towards him, somewhat at chest level – at Anna's shoulder-blade-level.

"You got a damn tattoo?!" He made a grab for what he sincerely hoped was an arm and ignored the squawk from the empty air. "Gabe!" he yelled over his shoulder. "Blanket!"

Gabriel rolled down his window and threw out the emergency blanket Dean kept in his car for just this type of occasion. "Anna's gonna get in tro-uble," Gabriel hummed in a singsong voice, and Dean spared a glare for him, too.

"Bambi McSnuffy," he told his son in a threatening voice and Gabriel shut up. Dean threw the blanket at Anna's presumed body and it stuck. "Ah-ha!" Dean crowed. "Get your skin back on and get in the car, or else we'll be late to pick up your little brother."

"I'm not putting my skin back on, Dad!"

"What's this I hear?" Dean cupped a hand around his ear. "Methinks I heard my daughter talk back to me. My underage daughter with an underage tattoo who's going to get her underage ass into the car and tell her Dad what blithering idiot tattoo artist gave her underage shoulder blades wings without permission from her two awesome dads."

Anna hmphed. Even the damn blanket looked sulky. "I can't believe you're complaining about a little ink while baby seals are being slaughtered in Canada!"

Dean blinked. "You're going naked to protest something in Canada? You realize we're in California, right?"

"The baby seals are being killed for their _skins_ , Dad!" Anna flickered a moment as she lost control in the heat of her passion. "I have to show solidarity!"

Dean barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Anna – "

"It's _not_ stupid!" Her voice was getting a little choked up. Great, he was making his daughter cry. "I'm seventeen years old and I can make up my own mind!"

"That's awesome, Anna, really it is. But there's a time and a place for nudity, and school is not that place!" Sometimes he couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth. _Really, Dean?_ His conscience's voice spoke to him in Sam's pissy tone whenever he chastised his kids for doing things he had done when he was their age. It was annoying as shit.

"I would like to state for the record that I waited until school was out. And I am getting in the car! But under duress."

Dean waited until the blanket-swathed form got into the front passenger side before getting in himself, muttering darkly about his own stubbornness and Cas's self-righteousness forming an unholy union in their daughter.

"Don't think I've forgotten about those tattoos, either, Anna," he said, putting the Impala into drive.

The silence next to him turned a little frosty.

"Aw, come on, Dad, the tats are kind of cool," Gabriel piped up from the backseat. 

"That's not the point!"

"Then what _is_ your point?" Anna learned that tone from her uncle. Dean certainly never sounded all hoity-toity.

"The point, Ms. I'm Seventeen, is that you can't get tattoos at seventeen without permission from a parent or guardian, and I don't recall _anyone_ asking me or Cas if you could permanently mark your body!" He eased on the brakes at a red light. No sense taking out his bad mood on his baby.

"Do you think Dada will be upset?" Anna asked in a small voice.

"Cas will be upset you tried to hide it from him, and didn't talk to him about it," Dean answered, and dammit, he was definitely going to have to tell Cas about Gabriel's foray into Casa Erotica territory, if he didn't want to be a huge hypocrite. 

"But I got wings! Like Dada's!" Anna protested.

"And he'll be honored. Eventually."

Anna flickered into view next to him, suddenly solid pale skin and red hair and lower lip trying not to tremble. "I hate being invisible. I wish I could fly like Dada."

"We don't get to choose our powers, sweetheart," Dean said softly.

"I mean, I'm a woman, Dad. I already have to fight against the invisibility of being the powerless minority!" Anna cried dramatically.

"There are more women than men in the world, so technically, you're the majority," Gabriel chimed in.

"Shut _up_ , hoser!" Anna retorted.

"Knock it off, both of you." _Hoser? She preparing to move to Canada to protect the seals?_ "When Cas gets home from work, you're going to explain to him about your tattoos, Anna. Just, tell him why you came to your decision and why you didn't damn well tell us about it yourself, okay? And Gabe," he continued, raising his eyes to the rearview mirror, "we'll have to tell him about Bambi McSnuffy."

"We? Together?" Gabe asked hopefully.

"Yeah, we, together. Chin up, Squirt."

Anna looked out the window. "I want to talk to Dada alone."

"We'll see," Dean grunted. Anna played favorites all the time; according to Sam, it was a perfectly natural phase. That didn't mean Dean had to like it. He pulled up outside the middle school just as the bell rang.

Balthazar came running pell-mell down the front steps, almost tripping down the walkway, before reaching the Impala, yanking open the back door and leaping in, trampling Gabriel in the process. "Blimey! Drive, Dad, drive!" His voice sounded weird.

Dean turned in his seat to survey his sons. They had moved on to batting uselessly at each other with their hands. "You want to save some baby seals, Anna, we've got a couple in the back seat."

"The seal hunt is no joke, Dad," she said with a note of asperity.

"Of course it's not," Dean mumbled. He shifted back into drive and pulled out into traffic. He liked to imagine other cars made room for his baby out of a sense of awe at her utter awesomeness, and not just because she was a behemoth with a determined driver. And noisy occupants. "Hey, Balthazar," he said, raising his voice to be heard over his sons, "you mind telling me why you shot out of school like a bat out of hell?"

"Oh, Father, you're so droll," Balthazar began, still with the strange lilt, and Dean's eyebrows shot up, "I was simply removing myself from the presence of a few choice Neanderthals."

"Droll? Seriously? And what's up with that accent? Who are you trying to be, Dick Van Dyke?"

"Is Dick Van Dyke British?" Balthazar asked hopefully, accent slipping.

"In his dreams," Dean muttered. "Your accent is supposed to be British?"

Balthazar's face fell. "I don't sound British?"

Gabriel snickered. "You sound like a druggie trying to–"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean interrupted as Balthazar's face scrunched into a scowl. "We don't call each other druggies in this family."

"What if I become a druggie?" Gabriel asked.

"Then you have to go live with your Uncle Sam and Aunt Ruby."

The car was blessedly silent for a moment before Balthazar broke it.

"Aunt Ruby scares me," he said in a small voice, and for once Gabriel didn't make fun of him, but nodded his head in agreement.

"That's just because the two of you are threatened by a woman with power," Anna declared, and then they were off and running, Anna passionately asserting her side while Gabriel took it all as a joke and Balthazar mimicked his attitude, eager for his older brother's approval.

Dean turned into their driveway while Anna was listing the attributes of Tough & Sassy, the mother-daughter superhero team now undercover as Ellen & Jo Harvelle, and how they would surely win in a battle with any pair of male superheroes, "except for Dada and Dad."

Their house in Southern California, their sixth since going undercover almost twenty years ago, was not especially pretty and, in fact, looked just like all the other houses on the street. What it had going for it, though, was a bedroom for each kid. And as their bickering reached a crescendo when Dean put the Impala in park, he gladly sent each to their own room to get started on homework while he saw to the feeding of the family pet. Uriel was a large shaggy dog with the personality of an especially pissed off cat, but Cas loved him regardless so Dean begrudgingly accepted him and kept him fed.

After a couple of hours spent helping Balthazar with math homework, quizzing Gabriel for an upcoming history test, asking Anna if she was ever going to come out of her room ("I'll come out after I talk to Dada!") and breaking up no less than three fights over the remote control, who got to choose the Wii game, and which character was more awesome, Princess Leia or Marion Ravenwood (he took the coward's way out and called it a draw), Dean was actually relieved to escape to the kitchen to start tackling dinner. He was in the midst of stirring a pot of Dad Delight on the stovetop when Cas got home from work. Uriel immediately got up from his spot in the middle of the kitchen, where he'd been trying without success to cause Dean to trip and impale himself with his paring knife, and padded over to the backdoor, throwing a Look over his shoulder at Cas. Cas'd been well-trained, however, and opened the door for him before doing anything else.

Dean snorted. "Don't mind me, Cas, I've only been slaving over this hot stove to create a gourmet meal for you and our beloved children."

Cas slipped his arms around Dean's waist and nuzzled at his neck. "And now you're trying to placate me with your lewd behavior."

"I would never attempt to placate you, Dean," Cas replied. Dean could see his nose wrinkle out of the corner of his eye. "What is this you are making?"

"Dad Delight. You're gonna eat it and like it." He turned in Cas's loose embrace and walked them across the kitchen's linoleum floor until he had Cas pressed against a counter. "Hey. How was your day?"

Cas frowned. "I believe the phrase you would use is that the day 'sucked ass.'"

Dean raised his hands to cup Cas's face and ran a thumb over his lower lip. As much as he hated the necessity that forced them into hiding and Cas into his crap job, he did love Cas's frown faces, and he loved leaning forward and sucking on that lower lip until it quirked into a smile. He especially loved doing all that without an audience making gagging noises.

"Ewww, kisses!" Balthazar shrieked from the doorway.

"Can it, Midget. When Daddy and Daddy make out, it's a beautiful thing," Dean shot back, glancing over his shoulder.

"Ugh!" Balthazar exclaimed and ran back into the living room.

"Dean," Cas said reproachfully.

Dean grinned and leaned in to kiss his frown away once more. "He's already been scarred for life," he murmured against Cas's lips. "Remember that stormy night? Or that other stormy night? Or—"

"Is Dada home?"

Dean sighed and leaned his forehead against Cas's. "Seriously, Gabe? _Now_? Dada's just walked through the door."

"Does that mean I should wait?" Gabriel asked, face scrunching up.

"Jesus, it's like you were raised by a tactless – oh, right." Dean gave Cas's waist a reassuring squeeze. He looked tired and stressed, but then he'd been looking tired and stressed a lot lately and Dean hadn't the faintest idea how to fix it. "Okay, come in here, Gabe, and tell your Dada what happened at school today."

Cas shot him an alarmed look as Gabriel shuffled forward. "Um," their son began. "So, meet my friend."

He snapped his fingers and a busty blonde who looked way older than fourteen appeared next to him. Cas didn't bat an eye, though they narrowed as he gazed at Bambi McSnuffy. Dean had to give Gabriel credit – she was definitely hot. And the attention to detail was almost obscene.

"Why do I get the feeling that the creation of this co-ed is only the first phase in your misdeed?" Cas asked, crossing his arms. Dean smirked as Gabriel's face fell. There was no putting one over on Cas.

"Well, okay, so you see how hot she is? Isn't that distracting?"

"You should remember who you are talking to, Gabriel," Cas said dryly. Dean snorted.

"Yeah, well, she's distracting to Mr. Walker," Gabriel mumbled.

"Your biology teacher?" Cas shot Dean a quick look for confirmation, and Dean nodded.

"Uh-huh. She could get away with a lot of stuff in his class," Gabriel said to his feet. Cas sighed. "I didn't do anything to hurt him! We, well she, just talked back a bit. I would have done it myself, 'cept I'd totally get in big trouble."

"Like today when you laughed again, and it was the last straw," Dean reminded him. Gabriel looked chagrined.

"Dare I ask what it was you as she said?" Cas dared.

"Uh…"

Dean cleared his throat. "I honestly think you're better off not knowing, Cas, and it really wasn't important."

Gabriel let out a relieved sigh when Cas slowly nodded.

"What _is_ important here is that Gabriel is going to work on remembering the first rule of being an Awesome, right? 'Don't be a douche.'" Dean paused for Gabriel to nod vigorously. "And what's also important is – well, just look at her! She's even solid. She's perfect!"

Cas cut his eyes over at Dean, then took a step forward to peer more closely at Bambi. "This _is_ exquisite work, Gabriel. What does her voice sound like?"

"Thank you, Mr. Novak," said Bambi in Ruby's voice.

"Huh. Your Aunt Ruby would probably get a kick out of this," Dean mused.

"Please don't tell her!" Gabriel's voice cracked in alarm, and Dean and Cas exchanged knowing glances.

"Alright, Gabriel, your secret is safe with us," Cas said. "And I am impressed with your skill and imagination. But you do not torment your teachers, no matter if you do not like them. They are there to teach you things you will need to know. Show them at least a modicum of respect, and don't abuse your powers just because you can. We were forced undercover for a reason."

Gabriel nodded, eyes wide. "Yes, Dada," he whispered. "I won't blow our cover, I promise."

"Good man, Squirt." Dean reached forward and ruffled his hair. "Now scat, I want to talk to your Dada."

Gabriel snapped his fingers again, and Bambi disappeared as he went scurrying from the kitchen.

Cas sighed at his retreating back. "It is difficult to believe Gabriel has already achieved so much with his power."

"Yeah, it seems like just yesterday he created that headless chicken when he was aiming for a Twix." Cas nodded absently and Dean stretched out his hand to cradle his husband's jaw. "Hey. Stay with me here."

"I am always with you," Cas replied, frowning. "If I had my way, I would never spend even an hour separated from you."

Dean huffed a laugh. Twenty years in, and Cas routinely came up with romantic shit like that all the time. It had stopped embarrassing Dean after the time Cas went with him to a holiday party at the place he'd been working at in Ohio, and he'd announced to Dean's boss and co-workers that they had a profound bond. Then the receptionist had walked in on them making out in the coat closet and had taped up photographic proof all over the office the next Monday, with the words "profound bond" scrawled across the bottoms of the pictures.

"You'll have to put up with at least a _little_ separation tonight, as difficult as it is to resist my charms," Dean said, leaning in to kiss him again. "Anna wants to talk to you alone."

"What's wrong?" Cas asked, brow furrowing again.

"Not necessarily _wrong_ , but . . . why don't you have a cup of coffee first?" Dean moved his other hand up to massage Cas's neck. He was so damn tense, and Anna's tattoos were not going to help anything.

"No, I should go now. What is it about?" His hands clung to Dean's waist, more of a handful than there used to be. Dean still worked out, and occasionally played racquetball with Sam, but he had more middle age spread than the other two, and it bugged him. Cas would just tell him that his body was perfect in every incarnation, and fit his own perfectly. And then he'd fuck him into the mattress to prove his point.

"She wants to tell you what it's about without me there," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "She broke the rules, I've seen them, but you remember what Sam said."

Last time Dean had talked to him about Anna, Sam had said that she was "exploring her boundaries" and needed "non-interfering guidance" and "support." Dean just wanted his little girl back, at which Sam had shaken his head and told him the little girl was gone, and he should get to know the young woman who took her place. Easier said than done, as Anna had decided that Cas was now the confidante father and Dean was the chauffeur father.

"I remember Sam's advice." Cas straightened his tie. "We will be down to dinner shortly. Thank you for preparing it."

"No prob." Dean pressed his lips to Cas's forehead, then gave him a light smack on the ass to get him moving. "Call for me if you need reinforcements."

***

Castiel paused outside Anna's door. This month it was painted in swirls of purple and blue, last year's unicorn painted over time and again until Castiel could barely make out the tip of its horn. An earnest female voice was singing inside, asserting that she had a voice. _That's evident, child, but what did you want to **say**?_

"Anna," Castiel called through the door. "I wish to enter and speak with you."

The volume of the music was lowered, and he could hear Anna's footsteps approaching. "Are you alone, Dada?"

"Yes, but I feel it is foolish to have this conversation without Dean also present."

She opened the door and stood on the threshold, swaying from foot to foot and hunching her shoulders beneath her black hoodie. It was going to be one of _those_ father-daughter talks then. "Dad already saw."

She shifted aside then and let him enter properly. His nose wrinkled at the smell of her candles. The jar called the scent "midnight garden" but Castiel privately agreed with Dean that the odor was more akin to "emo hysterics." He would have to tread lightly, and stifled a sigh. Treading lightly was not his strong suit.

Castiel sat stiffly on the bed and patted the quilt next to him. It was a holdover from when they lived in New England, a complicated pattern that had been hand-stitched and sold at a church rummage sale. It was also the only brightly-colored object in the room. Anna shoved it aside and sat cross-legged on the bed, her elbows on her knees so that her hood and hair both worked to hide her face. He shifted awkwardly so they were at least facing each other, and folded his hands in his lap.

"Okay, Dada," Anna began. "You know how Dad and Uncle Sam have matching tattoos?"

A shiver of unease crawled up his spine. Surely she could not mean – 

"I am well aware of your father's tattoos," he replied.

She inclined her head, acting the part of gracious lady, but all he could see was the three-year-old quivering with excitement the first time he placed her baby brother in her arms.

"And they're important, right? Dad and Uncle Sam wouldn't be the same people they are now without them."

"Your father and uncle would still be your father and uncle no matter what they looked like," he countered. This was most definitely about tattoos. Anna had gotten a tattoo, and – and _damn_ Sam's "exploring boundaries" speech!

"But their tattoos _say_ something – "

"Anna, would you do me the honor of simply saying what you mean?" Castiel cut her off, his head beginning to pound right between his eyes.

She disappeared abruptly, and he was left facing an empty hoodie. "I got wings tattooed on my back," it whispered at him in Anna's voice.

Castiel closed his eyes and counted to five before opening them again, striding to the door and yanking it open as well, yelling down the hall, "Dean, I am calling for reinforcements!"

"Dada!" Anna's hoodie protested from the bed.

Dean was already at the door and slipping inside, shutting it behind him. He looked at the hoodie, then back at Castiel. "Has she shown them to you?"

"Not yet," Castiel answered grimly. "Anna. The wings."

"I just want to be like you!" she wailed. The hoodie sailed through the air and crumpled into a heap near her desk. She was wearing a button-down beneath it, Castiel recognized it as one of his cast-offs, and it was on backwards and unbuttoned. The wings appeared hazy against the inner pale blue of the shirt.

"Anna. Show yourself." Dean shot him a warning look, probably about his tone, and Castiel moderated it. "I would like to see them properly, Rosebud."

The pet name worked, and Anna flickered into solid form. The tattoos were . . . not atrocious. Fluffier than his own wings, and much, much smaller, but that was to be expected as his wingspan was enough to wrap him and Dean up like a burrito. True wing-size tattoos would never fit on Anna's slender back. He extended a finger and gingerly touched one wing. It felt like skin.

"Anna, why would you do this? Truly?" he asked.

She flickered minutely. "I told you," she said in a small voice.

"If you meant to honor me by choosing wings, Rosebud, why did you not tell me you were getting them?"

She was silent. Dean took a step closer to him, and Castiel drew gratefully on his strength. Anna disappeared again, the blue shirt falling backwards back-forward onto the bed. Castiel and Dean both leaned forward to try to catch the muffled words from the vicinity of Anna's pillow.

"Speak up, Shortcake, we can't hear you," Dean told her. The shirt turned over.

"I wanted to show them to someone," she said.

"I take it you mean someone other than us," Dean said.

Castiel could hear her take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "When you and Dada, I mean, the first time you – he showed you his wings and you knew you loved him, didn't you?"

Dean looked pole-axed. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! This is about sex? You want to have sex with some – boy? And you think showing him tattoos will make it – what? True love? Are you –"

"That's enough, Dean." Castiel laid a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Anna, that was a very different situation."

"It was different because you didn't have to hide that you were a superhero!" she burst out. "You didn't need tattoos to be special!"

"Listen up, kid – you are incredibly fucking special," Dean said forcefully, Castiel wincing at his choice of words. "Always have been, always will be. You do _not_ want to be with some idiot who can't see that!"

"I believe what your father is saying," Castiel added, gingerly picking a place on the bed to sit so he could clumsily pat her shoulder, "is that having intercourse for the first time is a very big decision, whether you are a superhero or not."

"But you knew he was the right one when you showed him your wings, didn't you?" she asked.

Castiel sighed. "Anna, I had had several lovers before I met Dean –" Dean shot him a panicked look and gestured frantically to him to shut up, forgetting that Anna could still see him, even if she was invisible "– but Dean was the only one I showed my wings. And I did so because the moment I met him I knew I wanted to spend every day beside him and every night making love to him." Dean made a strangled noise, but Castiel continued regardless. "The wings came out after the fact."

"Enough with the wings!" Dean's voice was rather more high pitched than usual. "You're not having sex until you're forty!"

"That is an unrealistic expectation," Castiel said, "though I certainly wish it were so."

"You guys are upset over _nothing_ , anyhow," Anna said glumly. "Stan doesn't even know I exist."

"Stan? _Stan_? You want to give your – _your most precious gift_ – to a _Stan_?"

There were moments – not many, but definite moments – when Castiel simply could not comprehend how Dean's mind worked.

"Did you just call our daughter's virginity her most precious gift?" he asked, wonderingly. "What about her kindness, her intelligence, her bravery? These are all worth much more."

" _Cas_." Dean's eyes bugged out a bit.

"And what is wrong with the name 'Stan'?" Castiel continued.

"There's nothing fucking wrong with Stan!" Dean exploded. "Just the fact that he exists!"

Castiel touched Dean's forearm, finally getting it. "Dean. I did not mean to make light of the situation. I apologize. Anna," he eyed the jeans sticking out of the shirt and laid a hand on a possible ankle, "you do not need to show this Stan your wings to get him to love you. Do you understand our concerns?"

"You don't want me to cheapen myself by having sex with someone who'd only do it because I have cool wings, and not because they love me?"

"Yes, that." Dean nodded vigorously. "And you should really wait a long time, and have your father and I vet him – or her – first."

"Then I'd never have sex."

"Would that really be so bad?" Dean asked. Castiel didn't need to see Anna's face to know what expression she was wearing. After all, she'd learned it from him. Dean knew it, too, and held up a hand in a placating gesture. "Alright, alright. Just – promise you'll _talk_ to us before you make these kinds of decisions, will you? We're not idiots; we've been there, you know?"

She flickered back into view and nodded her head. "Okay, Dad. And I'm sorry I got the tattoo without permission."

Dean leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Awesome. Now I need to check that Dad Delight to make sure it didn't boil over. Wash up, dinner's ready in five." He bent to kiss Castiel on the lips and left, shutting the door gently behind him.

Anna threw her arms around her Dada as soon as the handle snicked closed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she mumbled into his shirt.

"It will be okay, Rosebud," he murmured, pressing his lips to her bright red hair. If it was within his power, he would keep Anna a child forever. But though she would always be his little girl, she was no longer a child, and it was time he remembered it.

"Are you at least a tiny bit honored by the wings?"

"I am deeply honored." He kissed the top of her head again. "Now. Put your shirt on properly. I will meet you downstairs for dinner. I love you, Rosebud."

"I love you, Dada."

***

Dinner that evening was a somewhat subdued affair, unusual for the Winchester-Novak household. Even Balthazar was quiet, which only added another worry onto Dean's growing list. But he shrugged his shoulders and slurped his stew when Dean tried to talk to him, and he soon gave up.

It was something of a relief when a key turned in the front lock and Sam walked in. The boys abandoned their bowls of Dad Delight to dogpile their uncle, and Castiel declared dinner to be over. Dean captured his gaze across the dinner table, feeling a small thrill run up his spine, answered by the slight flush staining Cas's cheeks. It was Bowling Night.

Tuesday's were Bowling Night. Or as Dean would say, "Wink, wink, nudge, nudge – _Bowling Night_ ," always followed by the broadest of winks. Bowling Night was an endless source of embarrassment to the kids. Gabriel thought it was a dorky hobby and Balthazar secretly wanted to go, too. Anna, on the hand, was the only one who suspected (and rightly) that no actual bowling took place on Bowling Night. She thought it was code for having public sex, though she couldn't for the life of her figure out why Uncle Sam would consent to being their lookout. Her face flamed as red as her hair as her fathers bustled around, Dean clearing the table, Cas sprinting upstairs to change into jeans and a t-shirt, and both kissing her forehead before leaving her in charge for the evening.

To Cas, Dean and Sam, Bowling Night meant a return to being Awesome, if only for a couple of hours. The thrill of the hunt! The excitement of the chase! The total intoxication of expending righteous fury on the side of Good! Tuesday nights made the rest of the week bearable. Tuesday nights were when, once again, superheroes walked the earth.

Or sat huddled over the police scanner in the Impala, lurking in an alley mouth in what passed for the "bad" side of town.

"Cheeto?" Sam dangled the bag over the front seat, offering it back and forth between Dean and Cas.

"Don't get that orange shit on my baby's upholstery," Dean said, eyeing the bag. He was putting on a little weight, no two ways about it, but maybe one Cheeto wouldn't be so bad. If he rolled down the window and ate it outside to protect the Impala, of course.

"There're candy bar wrappers on the floor back here, Dean. I don't think a little orange dust would even be noticed." Sam crunched four Cheetos at a time. _Sam_ wasn't putting on extra weight, damn him.

" _I_ would notice," he snapped back. "And Gabe's going to get a stern talking-to when we get home! Another one."

"Is Gabe getting into trouble at school?" Sam asked, swallowing.

Dean glared at him. "Are you asking as his uncle or as a therapist?"

"You need to stop getting your panties into a twist over my profession," Sam said sharply. "And it's family first, you know that."

"Sorry, Sammy." Dean sighed and glanced at Cas. He was staring at the police scanner like he could wake it up with the very force of his will. Dean leaned over the backseat to talk to Sam instead. "Gabe's getting really good with the whole create-things-out-of-thin-air thing," he said. "A little _too_ good. But that's nothing compared to what Anna did."

"Did you two have a fight?"

"What? No! We had a discussion. You would've been proud of me, Sammy."

Sam raised an eyebrow in an expression that Dean had actually taught him when they were kids, and was annoyed to see it used against him. 

"Okay, Dr. Winchester," Dean said. "Your daughter comes home with tattoos and wants to know if your husband showed you his wings the first time you fucked. What would _you_ have said? Look at that, I'm asking your opinion! I should write it in the paper."

"She wanted to know if I showed you my wings because I loved you," Cas interrupted before Sam could reply.

"The important bits here, Sam, are that Anna got tattoos and she's thinking about having sex. Sex, Sam!"

"Okay, I got it, Dean!" Sam cleared his throat. "She's seventeen, she's going to be thinking about sex. You have to get Anna to acknowledge her self-worth. You can't _make_ her, but reassure her that _you_ , at least, find her worthy of love and respect."

"We totally did that," Dean said.

"That's good!" Sam paused. "What were her tattoos of?"

"Wings."

"And you think she chose wings because of Cas?"

Dean stared at him. "Do you know any _other_ winged men? And don't be all Oedipus Sex or whatever. I don't want to hear that shit."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Sam said dryly. "Okay, without talking to Anna herself, I think it's obvious that she wants to get closer to you guys. Look – you're her example of a healthy, loving relationship. She's at the age where she wants something like that for herself. It's only natural for her to try to procure it."

"So . . . in your professional opinion, our daughter getting tattoos and wanting sex does not make us terrible parents?"

"No."

"Good."

"So Cas showing you his wings – "

"Nope, share time is over. Eat your Cheetos."

"You're emotionally stunted, you know that right?" Sam asked, chomping on three Cheetos at once.

"Dude! Watch the spit!"

"A bit of spit or orange dust is of no import," Cas said, rousing himself from the scanner. "You two need to be quiet and focus on the work at hand."

"There _is_ no work at hand," Dean grumbled.

Cas shot him a glare and turned up the radio. Dean sighed and leaned back against the window. The car was filled with the sound of Sam munching Cheetos and the occasional squawking voice on the radio, interspersed with plenty of static. It was a slow night. Dean could feel the ennui from the rest of the week creep in. Soon enough they'd have to call it a night. Cas would be disappointed, and Dean hated it when Cas was disappointed. He'd told Sam one night, years ago, soon after Anna was born, that if Cas asked him for the moon, he would wrestle it from the sky for him. He'd been drunk, to be sure, but the sentiment held true despite its sappiness. He laid his hand on Cas's knee and squeezed gently. Cas straightened from his slight slump and turned to look at Dean just as the radio crackled to life.

_"Shit, there's a fire at Oasis Plains Housing Development! What's the code? WHAT'S THE CODE?!"_

"A fire!" Cas's eyes were suddenly blazing. "Dean, we can beat the truck!"

"I'm on it, I'm on it!" Dean yelled back, putting the Impala into drive and flooring it. Cheetos went flying across the backseat.

Fifteen minutes later, Dean was regretting his enthusiasm as he inhaled another lungful of smoke. An unconscious body was slung over each shoulder, Cas followed with his own double burden and Sam, who did not have the benefit of super-strength, still managed a couple of teenagers over his shoulders.

"Where the hell's outside?" he coughed. "Cas? You see anything?"

"It is on the other side of this wall," Cas said, nodding to the one in front of them.

"Good," Dean grumbled. "I don't know how much more of this I can take." He drew back his fist and punched through the wall. Smoke and dust billowed out . . . into another room. "Dammit!"

All three of them tripped over rubble while crossing into the other room. Dean drew back his fist to break down the next wall.

"Wait!" Sam exclaimed. "I don't think you should do that."

"Did you get a vision?" Dean asked, pausing. His eyes flicked between his brother and Cas. He didn't like the drawn look on Cas's face. They needed to get out of the smoke _now_.

"Property damage, Dean. Can't we just go through the door?" Sam answered.

"Then open the fucking door, Mind's Eye!"

Sam huffed, but the front door of the house banged open just a few feet from Cas. He immediately ran through, followed by Sam. Dean brought up the rear, grumbling.

Sirens were still approaching as they laid their burdens on the grassy front lawn – the only house with green grass in the development. Oasis Plains wasn't even officially open for business yet, and already they'd had a house fire. Bad luck.

Sam straightened from checking the fire survivors. "All breathing!" he announced happily. "Let's go!"

Dean was just turning to follow when he heard a loud cracking noise. The downstairs windows blew out, sending shards of glass flying – towards the newly-rescued family. Cas was there before Dean could even take a second step, throwing his arms up to catch the brunt of the destruction.

No matter how many times he saw it, and no matter that he _knew_ Cas could just heal himself after, Dean hated to see Cas get hurt. His husband's blood sprayed his face, hot and sticky, and the fuse in his brain that shortcircuited whenever a loved one was in danger blew. He didn't remember grabbing Cas or shoving Sam into the car, but the next time he was aware of his surroundings, there they were, five blocks away with Sam at the wheel and Dean in the backseat, picking glass shards out of Cas's skin and clothes and dropping them into the Cheetos bag.

"Dean? You back with us?" Sam asked. Dean could feel his eyes through the rearview mirror. He nodded, a little embarrassed.

"Thank you for your help, Dean," Cas said gravely. The gashes in his face, arms and neck were knitting back together, golden skin meeting golden skin without even a scar between.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "We almost to your house, Sammy? We need to get you out from behind the wheel of my baby."

Sam rolled his eyes. "A couple more blocks, jerkface."

He pulled over a few minutes later and they all got out of the car.

"So. Haven't had a close one like that in awhile," Sam started. Dean grabbed at the keys and got into the front seat. Sam and Cas talked in low voices for a few moments, but Dean blocked the noise. The blood was pounding in his veins. He wanted nothing more than to get home, check on his kids, watch their breath rise and fall, and then touch every square inch of Cas's body, just to double-check. He stared out the windshield, eyes darting from object to object – a tree across the street, a child's abandoned tricycle, a car down the road that seemed to vanish like it was a mirage. He almost jumped when Cas opened the passenger side door.

Sam rapped his knuckles on the window. "Drive safe, Dean," he said through the glass.

Dean nodded and turned the key in the ignition. At the first stop sign he reached over, grabbed Cas's hand, and pressed a kiss to the palm. After twenty years, there were some things he didn't have to say with words, and the sight of Cas's exhausted smile was answer enough.

***

The kids were in bed by the time they got home, and Dean immediately went to check on each of them while Castiel attempted to get the blood out of his shirt. He looked up when Dean joined him in the bathroom.

"All set?" he asked.

"Gabe's made himself curtains for his bed." Dean snorted. "Like he's a baron or something. One of these mornings we're going to wake up in a damn castle." He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"A man's home is his castle," Castiel murmured. He never really felt that. Home wasn't a place, it was the people. Dean laid a hand on his bare back, and he shivered.

"Come on, Cas," Dean whispered, his voice husky. "I need to touch you."

Castiel met his eyes in the mirror and revealed his wings. Someday, maybe, but hopefully never, Dean wouldn't get that look of awe on his face at the first sight of Castiel's wings. There might come a time when his hand didn't tremble as it reached out to make the first contact. If Castiel had his way, that day would never come.

Tension drained out of Dean's shoulders as he touched the feathers, and Castiel mentally kicked himself for not remembering how upset Dean tended to get whenever he had to heal his injuries. It had been a few years since Castiel had suffered a truly bloody wound. He brought the tips of his wings up to touch Dean's face, burnished steel-gray feathers against pale skin, brushing dark eyelashes and a smattering of freckles. Dean shuddered against him and crushed their bodies together, fitting the both of them in the shelter of Castiel's wings. Castiel guided them back into the bedroom and pressed Dean into the mattress.

Sex with Dean was always a bit of an adventure – sometimes athletic, sometimes filthy, sometimes gentle. But on the nights Dean was feeling needy – not that he would admit to that, and Castiel had finally learned not to call it that when talking with Dean – but on those nights, sex did all Dean's talking for him. A gasp meant "don't leave me," a moan meant "I need you always" and his naked body stretched out beneath Castiel meant "I trust you not to hurt me." Castiel knew Dean would die of embarrassment if he could read the purple prose that filled his thoughts each time he thrust into his husband's body, and he kept his mouth shut to prevent the words from bursting out until he could hold it in no longer, babbling incoherently through his climax.

The insomnia came later. Castiel watched 2:00 AM slowly flick the numbers forward to 3:00 AM while his mind raced. He would have to go back to work the next day and deal with Zachariah's fascist rule, while every fiber of his being wanted to be with Dean, being superheroes again. It was so hard to come down from the high of a successful mission. He didn't know how Dean did it, but from the way his forehead knit in his sleep, Castiel had a feeling his sleep wasn't quite as restful as it seemed. 

After twenty years of only occasional superhero acts of derring-do, Dean had managed to construct a façade of domestication, and convinced Castiel to hold up his end of it. And he had, gladly, for nearly thirteen years of life undercover. But as each glowing green number flipped closer to another day, all Castiel wanted to do was to spread his wings and fly.

***

Dean watched Castiel over a mug of coffee the next morning, as Cas absently scratched Uriel behind the ears. The kids were running around, stuffing breakfast in their mouths ("Cupcakes don't count as breakfast," he reminded Gabriel, popping it into his own mouth once his son was in the bathroom), gathering their homework and getting dressed. There were bags under Cas's eyes again and Dean pursed his lips. Apparently the awesome sex they'd had the night before hadn't been awesome enough to put him to sleep. Dean had certainly slept, waking with his head on Cas's chest and his arms clinging embarrassingly tight around his husband's waist. Though he couldn't shake the dreams he'd had of running, always running, whether towards something or from something, he couldn't say.

"Do I have tinned tomatoes in my lunch?" Balthazar asked, hefting his lunch bag and peering inside.

"What?" Dean asked, shaking off his reverie. Cas was done with his coffee and heading upstairs to brush (and floss, he was very meticulous) his teeth before walking out to the bus stop. Dean tore his eyes from his retreating back to focus on Balthazar's up-turned face. "Tinned tomatoes? What the hell for?"

Balthazar's little shoulders slumped. "They're _British_ , Dad."

Dean's expression softened. "Sorry, kiddo. We don't have any tinned tomatoes, but we have fish in the freezer. How 'bout we do fish 'n' chips tonight? You can even douse them in malt vinegar."

"We-ell." Balthazar's nose scrunched when he was thinking, just like Cas's. Dean thought it was the most adorable thing in the world, and bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. "Jolly good. I shall partake of my delectation sans vinegar. You have my gratitude."

Dean did laugh then. "Balthazar, munchkin, you do know the British use regular words, right? The accent may sound smarter, but there are as many British idiots as American ones."

Balthazar's eyes opened wide in surprise, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by the thundering of Gabriel's and Anna's feet as the two older siblings joined them and jostled for space at the counter to grab their lunches. Cas was hot on their heels and pressed a kiss to each child's forehead before grabbing his lunch. His breath tasted minty fresh when he kissed Dean, but his shoulders were still slumped as he walked out the door. Dean fought the urge to grab him and hustle him back upstairs to do everything in his power to lift the cares from his shoulders. He turned with a sigh to the last lunch.

"To the Batmobile, kidlets. Move." He felt half a fool herding them along like ducklings, but given the slightest leeway, one or the other could slip away. Gabriel used to creep back to his room and hide under the bed when they lived in Florida.

"Dad, do you think you could drop us off at the corner of Arch and West?" Anna asked, buckling her seatbelt.

"That's a block away from your school," Dean replied. "What, are you embarrassed by your old man?"

Anna flushed and looked out the window. Dean stared over at her. Hadn't they made progress the night before? They'd fucking talked about sex, that was huge! Teenagers. It was two steps forwards, two steps back with them.

"I'm letting you out in front of the sycamore tree, same as always," Dean said, hitching his shoulders.

The rest of the ride passed in silence. Anna slammed the door when she got out, walking hurriedly down the path to school, but Gabriel lingered a minute.

"Dragon," he said.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Sexy Stanley's last name." Gabriel rolled his eyes. "He's a total dork, Dad. We have to save Anna from herself."

"Thanks, Squirt," Dean said, smiling, as Gabriel hopped out of the car. "And behave yourself today!" he yelled after him.

Balthazar was the last stop before work, and he surprised Dean by reaching over from the backseat to throw his arms around Dean's neck in a partial hug.

"I'm not embarrassed to be seen with you," he muttered in his normal voice. "You're the coolest dad in the middle school."

Dean was whistling to himself when he pulled into his customary spot at the office park that hosted the town hall, a couple of law offices, a real estate agency and the one-room office of the _Land & Sea_. Ava called, bursting with excitement, as he was turning on his computer – there was something fishy about last night's fire at the Oasis Plains Housing Development, and did he mind if she took lead on it? Dean's heart thudded painfully in his chest as he graciously conceded the story. He then took advantage of the privacy to grossly misuse his position to find out everything he could on Stanley Dragon.

***

Castiel had a half hour commute via bus to Zachariah Adler's Righteous Insurance, several miles down the freeway in a larger town. He could have flown there in five minutes.

The day started like every other day Castiel had spent there: a stack of forms, policyholders that should be paid, and express instructions to find a reason NOT to pay. Castiel stared, unseeing, at the first form for almost thirty minutes, lost in a memory.

It was spring, and he had met Dean Winchester for the first time a week ago. They'd bumped heads coming out of a coffee shop both Castiel and Sam liked. The contact had been fleeting, barely there, but Dean had touched his arm, asked if he was alright, and Castiel had known he would never be alright again. Castiel had taken to following him, just so he could see him, but that day, he'd been distracted by criminal activity along the waterfront. He'd flown in to save the day, only to see it'd already been saved. He could remember each flex of muscle beneath Righteous Man's costume, the grin that was visible beneath his half-mask, and _knew_ it was Dean. And when more members of the gang had shown up, Dean had laughed at the ease with which Castiel dispatched them, throwing his arm around Castiel's shoulders and saying they made a good team. Castiel had kissed him then, their first kiss, tasting of blood and sweat and the thrill of adrenaline.

He came to in his cubby, clutching a pen so hard it had snapped in his hand, cutting his palm. He watched dispassionately as the blood welled up and the wound closed. He used to fight gangs. Fury gripped him so tight, he couldn't breathe. And then Zachariah appeared at his cubicle.

"Castiel! Hard at work, or hardly working?" He winked broadly. "I'm the boss so be careful how you answer!"

Castiel stood up, dropping the pieces of the bloody pen on his stack of forms. "I'm hardly working. You don't allow any work to get done."

All noise ceased in the office as heads poked cautiously above and around cubicle walls. Zachariah stared at him, all traces of false jollity wiped from his face. Castiel stared back. He'd just fucked it up again. The scene played out in his head, of his family's disappointed eyes when he told them he'd lost his job and they'd have to leave once more.

"Tell me, Castiel." Zachariah's voice was deadly soft now. "Whose name is it on all those 'request for payment denied' forms, hmmm?"

_Fuck him with a spoon_ , Castiel thought savagely. 'Castiel Novak' was signed at the bottom of all those forms. Zachariah kept his hands clean.

Zachariah's lips peeled back in a predatory grin. "That's right. _Yours_. So don't get all self-righteous on me. You're the bad guy here."

Castiel snapped. His hand shot out and closed around Zachariah's throat, easily lifting him. "Never again," he gritted out. "You call yourself 'Righteous' but clearly you do not know what the word even means. You're a disgrace, and I refuse to lower myself to your standards. I am leaving."

He threw Zachariah aside, gathered his messenger bag and trench coat and one personal embellishment from his cubby (a picture of the entire family at Sam and Ruby's wedding), and marched to the stairs. It happened so fast, Zachariah was still struggling to his feet. His erstwhile co-workers were staring at him with a mixture of shock and disgust on their faces. Well, screw them; Castiel had never grown close to any of them. How could you be friends with someone you didn't respect?

He took a deep breath once he was out in the fresh air. The sun warmed his face, but the sense of security it provided was a falsity, he knew. He had just let his family down. There were benches around a man-made pond a couple of blocks away, and he stumbled to them and sank onto the hard wooden planks, his head in his hands.

Dean was going to be disappointed in him. He quailed from the knowledge. Dean's love and respect was the touchstone he'd built his undercover life around. He was no longer Mr. Awesome. Who was he if he couldn't be Castiel Novak, beloved of Dean Winchester and father of their three children and quasi-brother to Sam Winchester?

The bench creaked and shifted as an additional body sat beside him.

"What an absolutely awesome day," came out in a sultry drawl. He could see the woman's pointed boots poking out beneath the hems of her designer jeans.

"Please forgive me if I disagree," Castiel said stiffly.

"For you, sunshine, I could forgive anything."

What was this? Was she hitting on him? Castiel had never been good at telling. The lovers he'd had before Dean had become his lovers when he approached them and asked if they wanted to be. He didn't like all this beating around the bush.

"I'm sorry ma'am," he said, "but I am not interested. I'm happily married."

She laughed then, one of those throaty laughs designed to drive men wild. "Oh, you're _adorable_ ," she cooed.

He looked over at her then, raising an eyebrow. She was a tiny thing, dark hair and big dark eyes and a Rosebud mouth. Other men might find her attractive. "Ma'am –"

"Meg. It's Meg, Mr. Awesome." He stared at her in shock as she laughed again. "Yes, I know who you are. I have a business proposition for you."

He recovered enough of his wits to shake his head. "I don't need –"

"A job? Really? Then what are you doing on a park bench at 10:00 AM on a Wednesday?" She shifted closer to him. "Relax, Awesomecakes. Your secret is safe with me. I'm just like you, you know." She snapped her fingers, and a tiny flame appeared, dancing over her knuckles before she blew it out with a provocative pout of her lips.

"What do you want?" he asked warily.

"Your help." Her mouth quirked into a smile. "Help me, Obi-Wan-Awesome. You're my only hope." She dug into her purse and pulled out a card. "My number," she said, pressing it into his hand. "I represent a technology manufacturer. Our plant is on an island not too far from here. One of our competitors has loosed a machine on the island, intent on gathering our prototypes and harming our scientists. We need someone with speed and strength to find it, and destroy it. Someone who won't fail."

Castiel looked down at the card in his hand. Her number was the only information on it. He was more than half-tempted to hand it back when she spoke again.

"For the disposal of this one machine, the work of less than a day for someone with your skills, I'm planning to offer you double your yearly income from Righteous Insurance." Castiel's hand closed convulsively over the card, and she smirked. "Sleep on it, Mr. Awesome. Call me in the morning with your decision."

Castiel watched her leave, his mind whirring.

***

Anna still wasn't speaking to him. She was stubborn as hell, and could hold a grudge like nobody's business. Traits she had inherited from him, to be sure, but Dean just didn't think that this morning warranted a full-on case of the grumps from her. At least she was visible. He glanced across the front seat at her. _Scratch that._ Her hoodie and jeans sat slumped against the window.

"Hey, Dad?" Gabriel asked from the back seat.

"Yeah, Squirt?"

"Anna's being a douche."

"Hey!" She flickered into being and tried turning around, the seatbelt tightening and forcing her back.

"Don't call your sister a douche, Gabe," Dean answered automatically. "What's going on with you two?"

"Nothing!" Anna exclaimed. Gabriel ignored her.

"We always have the same lunch period on Wednesdays and we _always_ eat together," Gabriel started. Dean swallowed an "oh" of surprise. He hadn't realized Anna and Gabriel were that close – sure they loved each other, but their personalities were so different and no matter where they moved, they each associated with separate circles of friends. "But not today! Today she sat with Stanley Dragon."

Anna shot daggers at her little brother and Dean sighed. His research on Stan the potential lover had barely even given him an outline. He was born in town, and his birth announcement also listed grandparents living within five miles of the town. He'd been on the winning Little League team one year. In eighth grade he'd come in third at the science fair. He'd never appeared in the Court News section of the paper, that was something, at least. His mother's recipe for zucchini bread was printed in a local color article from last May. Whoop de ding.

"I guess Stan knows you exist now, Anna," he said, remembering her wail from the night before.

"I would like to request a change of subject," she said primly.

"Fine," Dean replied. "How about you tell me where you got your tattoos done? You never said, and I owe the artist a couple of busted kneecaps."

Anna shut her mouth tight and stared out the window. There was quiet from the backseat, too, and a sneaky suspicion began to creep into Dean's brain. He'd have to revisit it, though, because Balthazar came running out of the middle school the second he pulled up once again.

"Drive, Jeeves!" he yelled, diving over Gabriel and bonking his head on the opposite door. "Ouch!"

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled away from the curb. He could almost make out what the group of kids chasing Balthazar had been shouting – something like "give it."

"What are you playing at, Balthazar?" he asked.

"Just a game," Balthazar answered quickly. Gabriel snorted.

"A game," Dean repeated. "So those kids chasing you – those are your friends?"

"Uh-huh!"

"You know you can tell your Dada and me if you're having trouble at school, right?" Dean asked him, frowning. What was with his kids, keeping all these things secret? He certainly had never – well, that wasn't true. He had never told his father if he was having problems. John Winchester had had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he'd had no super strength to help him bear the burden. Dean never told him anything that would potentially add to the stress. Sam, on the other hand, had shared each victory and each disappointment with Dean since he could talk. Dean was having trouble adjusting to the fact that his own kids might be different.

"I know that; I'm not stupid!"

Dean waited, but no one was forthcoming. "Fine," he said, turning into their driveway. "You guys get your stuff together and change; we need to leave again soon."

The three kids made a beeline for upstairs and Dean followed them slowly into the house. "Uriel, you grumpy little stinkball. Are _you_ happy to see me?"

Uriel glared at him balefully from beneath his shaggy brow.

"Of course not," Dean muttered.

Wednesday afternoons were always a little crazy in the Winchester-Novak house. Anna had Japanese class at 3:00 in the next town over, Gabriel went to karate practice at 3:30 and Balthazar's piano lessons were also at 3:30, on the other side of town. Dean had just enough time to let Uriel out and herd him back inside before they all needed to pile into the car again. Anna and Gabriel seemed happy with their choices of extracurricular activity, but Dean had a feeling that Balthazar's piano lessons were not long for this world. He'd done swimming, violin, Boy Scouts, tap dance, drums and soccer, moving on from each one after a year or less. Sam has assured Dean that it was only natural for him to want to try new things. It seemed to Dean that _everything_ was only natural, according to Sam, no matter how weird his kids acted.

They didn't get back until after 5:00, and then it was Dean's turn to rush, feeding Uriel and getting a human dinner together, putting on a fresh pot of coffee for Cas. Dean'd laugh at how domestic he'd grown, if he had the time. Before he knew it, it was 6:00, Balthazar's requested fish was frying, the kids were yelling at each other in the living room, but Cas was still not home. Dean sent him a quick text and went to break up the fight. By 6:30, Wii had been banned for the rest of the night, the kids were now giving each other the silent treatment, the chips were starting to burn, and Cas had not answered his phone. He was almost an hour late. By 7:00, Dean had sat the kids down to eat and called Sam. A few times. He was just grabbing his keys to do a driving search when the side door opened and Cas walked in.

"Cas! Jesus, where the hell have you been? Why didn't you answer your phone? Are you okay?" Dean grabbed him by the shoulders to look him over. He avoided meeting Dean's eyes – bad sign number one. He shrugged off Dean's touch – bad sign number two.

"I forgot to re-charge the phone," Cas said irritably. "And I was unexpectedly detained at work." He ignored Uriel – bad sign number three – and immediately sat at the dining room table with the kids. Dean gaped at him. Cas had just lied – bad sign number four. It was a perfectly reasonable explanation, but twenty years of breathing the same air as Cas, and he _knew_ when he was getting lied to.

He sucked in his breath, ready to let loose, but Cas glanced up from the table and caught his gaze. Dean froze at the pleading look in his eyes, totally at odds with his earlier tone. Cas looked downright scared – of him.

"Hey, yeah, it's okay," Dean mumbled. He hung his keys back up by the door and joined his family.

A fragile peace descended on the room while they ate, punctuated by loud crunching noises from Balthazar. Anna shot him disgusted little glances, but kept her verbal opinion to herself. Gabriel amused himself by using a chip to draw pictures with ketchup-paint on his plate. Normally Dean would tell him to knock it off, but he was focused on Cas.

Something was very wrong. His heart sank as he thought over what it most likely could be. _Fucking Zachariah_. One of these days he was not going to be able to stop himself from going to that office and wiping the floor with that smarmy prick.

He tried to catch Cas after dinner while Gabriel and Balthazar did the dishes and Anna retreated to her room and a pile of homework.

"I don't want to talk about it," Cas whispered, and Dean had to take a step back. Since when had _he_ become the guy who wanted to talk about feelings? Damn, he'd mellowed so much, he sometimes had trouble remembering what he'd been like when he was young and Righteous Man and falling in love with Mr. Awesome. "I would rather we just have sex."

Dean blinked. Well, he was never going to change so much that he would turn down sex. And a few hours later, after the kids had gone to bed, he leaned back against the headboard and slowly caught his breath, watching Cas through hooded eyes. Cas avoided his gaze, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before stretching out on his side of the bed, his back to Dean.

"Uh, Cas?"

"I'm a little tired, Dean."

"I can see that, but–"

Cas rolled onto his back and turned his head, frowning at Dean. "Are you implying that you were not satisfied?"

"Hell, no!" Dean hastily assured him. "It was an awesome blowjob. I never have any complaints about your blowjobs, trust me. You just, you know, didn't seem all that into it."

"Into it? I swallowed your semen," Cas said in a frosty voice. "It's not a pleasant taste, Dean. How much more 'into it' could I get?"

Dean stared at him for a moment, uncomfortably aware of his exposed and spent wet dick. "Fine." He rolled off the bed and padded over to the bureau for a fresh pair of underwear. His were all mixed in with Cas's until there was no way to tell whose belonged to whom. "Sorry I put you through that. I was going to volunteer to return the favor, but clearly I disgust you."

"Don't be so dramatic." Cas's voice lashed out from the bed, and that was just fucking unfair. Had Dean pressed the issue earlier? No, he had not. He'd let Cas get away with a damn lie.

"I'm not being fucking dramatic." He noticed his voice was rising and he consciously lowered it. "You're the one taking out your frustrations about your shitty job on me."

For a moment he thought he had gone too far. Cas's eyes were narrowed in anger, but as Dean watched, his expression changed, loosening into something much more akin to despair. Dean hadn't seen that look since before Anna was born. _Fuck_.

"I do have a shitty job," Cas agreed quietly. Dean was back on the bed in two seconds flat.

"No, no, no, I didn't mean–"

"It's no wonder Zachariah's never respected my decisions. If you give someone shit and they take it, what kind of a man are they? And if I can't respect myself," Cas swallowed, "how can I expect you to?"

"No, Cas, baby, I _do_ respect you. Our kids respect you; hell, Anna wants to be like you so much she got wings tattooed on her back!" He pulled Cas half into his lap, anything to touch him as much as he could. "Listen. We can leave. I didn't realize how bad your work was. We can disappear again–"

"No, Dean, we can't. We can't do that to the kids again. Anna will be a senior next year. And Sam's married now, he has his own practice. He and Ruby are talking about having a baby – what if this time he wouldn't be willing to pack everything up and leave with us?"

"Ruby wants to be a mom?" Dean asked, temporarily startled out of his own worries. "Dude, that's – wait, how come Sam didn't say anything to me?"

"I suspect Ruby hasn't told him her decision yet. I chanced upon her perusing a _Parenting_ magazine."

"Huh." He gave himself a shake. "That doesn't change us, Cas. When we started this thing, we said we were going to be happy, and fuck everyone else. Remember? Undercover or not you're still Mr. Awesome. If you feel like shit at work, we need a change."

Cas was quiet for a moment. "Thank you, Dean," he said at last. "I appreciate your support. I shall . . . attempt to make some changes at work."

"And?" Dean asked, kissing Cas's forehead.

"And if we must, we will have a Family Meeting."

"Awesome." They shifted around on the bed until Dean was stretched out on his back and Cas was half-draped on top of him, Dean's fingers absently carding through Cas's hair. "I never thought we'd be a pair of well-adjusted assholes who had things like Family Meetings."

Cas made a noncommittal noise.

"So," Dean continued, "now that we've cleared the air a bit, do you want to fuck me?"

"Maybe in the morning," Cas mumbled, yawning. "I just want you to hold me."

"I can do that," Dean murmured, and tightened his grip, running his hand up and down Cas's back until the other man's breathing evened out and they both fell asleep.

***

Castiel woke early the next morning, the decision clear in his mind. He _would_ tell Dean what had really happened at work – as soon as he had done the job for Meg and received the money. With that buffer, they could figure out their next step together. But he could not admit to Dean how badly he had messed things up without first getting a plan in place to fix things.

He felt a twinge of guilt while watching Dean hustle the kids out the door, and more so when Dean turned back to give him an open-mouthed kiss, but he squashed it ruthlessly with his good intentions. When he left for 'work,' he continued right past the bus stop and into a stand of trees behind the Whole Foods shopping center. No one even glanced at him, and the trees provided some semblance of privacy as he stripped off his trench coat and the shirts beneath it, bundling them together into a roll.

It was the first time he'd spread his wings outside in a couple of years. The last time had been on a family vacation to Northern California. He and Dean had been helping Anna and Gabriel cope with their new-found powers along a deserted stretch of coast. And at night they'd left all three kids in the cabin with Sam, and Castiel had taken Dean flying. They'd wound up on a tiny island off the coast, and had spent the entire night making love in a small clearing that Castiel filled completely with his wings.

The sun warmed his bare back as he flew, his coat burden awkward in his arms. But he was going to fix that. He smiled to himself as he approached the outskirts of Los Angeles, careful to move fast enough so the people on the ground wouldn't look up and be able to tell he was a flying man. He touched down inside the walls of the mansion belonging to Bobby Singer.

He shrugged back into his shirt and coat before ringing the front bell.

"Who the hell is there? Why weren't you stopped at the front gate?" Bobby's voice was even more gruff and curt than Castiel recalled, and not helped by his intercom system. Castiel leaned close to the little box to answer.

"You know me, Bobby Singer. I am Castiel Novak."

There was a pause, followed by a buzzing sound, and then the front door opened wide. Castiel stepped into a marble foyer.

"Were you raised in a damn barn, Mr. Awesome? Bypassing my security, not even calling first – I had half a mind to leave you on the doorstep." Bobby Singer clomped across his marble floor in dusty work boots and stopped an arm's length away. "How the hell are you, kid?"

Castiel tilted his head and looked Bobby up and down. He looked unchanged – as curmudgeonly as ever, and he even still had the same dirty trucker cap on his head. It was hard to believe that rich and powerful men traveled from all over the world to buy suits designed by Bobby Singer.

"I have been better," Castiel answered truthfully. He wondered if he should try to hug Bobby. They'd last seen each other several years ago when Castiel's family was living in Florida. Bobby had stopped in after a fashion show in Miami. He'd found Anna charming, Gabriel trying and Balthazar had earned a black mark in Bobby's book by accidentally breaking a window in Bobby's truck during a rowdy game of wiffle ball. Still, Castiel counted him as a true friend to the Winchester-Novak clan.

"Beer?" Bobby asked, already turning away to lead Castiel deeper into the mansion. "And you can tell me why the hell you showed up without your better half. You flew here, didn't you? Not that I really want to hear the story, but it will save me from my latest order. Damn fool wants an ascot. An ascot!"

It wasn't even ten o'clock in the morning, but Castiel could do with a beer, and it sounded like Bobby could, too. Castiel glanced at the framed pictures that lined the hallway back to the kitchen as he followed Bobby. They were all of superheroes, in the costumes Bobby Singer had made, many sporting weapons or riding vehicles that had also been designed by Bobby Singer. As far as Castiel knew, Bobby was the only one who had come through the Troubles with reputation intact, and definitely the only one with power and influence now. Castiel was counting on him to still have the skill to back it up.

They drank their beers out on the verandah. Castiel sat stiffly on his white wicker chair, a purchase of one of Bobby's ex-wives, no doubt. Perhaps Dr. Visyak, as the chairs were shaped like mini-thrones. Bobby eyed him over the lip of his bottle.

"Do I want to know why you came alone?"

"No."

Bobby waited a minute. "Okay, kid. Never thought I'd see the day," he mumbled to himself, and took a long drink from his bottle.

"This is not a relationship issue," Castiel assured him. "I simply do not want to involve them in something."

Bobby held his gaze for a long moment, then shrugged. "All right. We'll put that one aside." He leaned back in his chair, making a face when an errant piece of wicker poked him in the back. "So, Cas. Twenty years under the radar, you've lived practically in my own backyard for over a year, but today you fly in broad daylight and show up on my doorstep. You want to tell me why? I hate guessing games."

Castiel had always appreciated Bobby's bluntness. It saved time and allowed him to dispense with the niceties, which he wasn't any good at, anyhow.

"I need to be Mr. Awesome today."

"Hate to break it to you, son, but you're _always_ Mr. Awesome."

Castiel blinked. Bobby rolled his eyes.

"I've been working in men's fashion for twenty years now, Cas. One thing I can tell you for certain is that the clothes do not make the man. If you're an asshole naked, you'll still be an asshole in a suit. A poorer asshole, 'cause my suits do not come cheap." Bobby took a long draught of his beer. "Just don't tell any of my fool clients, else I'll be out of a job."

"Though I agree a person's choice of clothing does not change their intrinsic worth, it can influence their self-image, which in turn can change their perception of their intrinsic worth," Castiel said slowly.

Bobby grunted. "Fair enough."

"It may also influence how others see them." Castiel set his beer bottle down on the little round table between their chairs.

"You sure you want to go back down that road, boy?" Bobby asked softly. Castiel did not hesitate to nod, and Bobby sighed. His muscles creaked faintly as he rose to his feet. "'Course I still have it. C'mon."

Castiel followed him back into the house and through its long corridors, his muscles tingling with anticipation. He'd debated all day yesterday, turning over Meg's proposition in his mind and imagining everything that could go wrong with it. But now he'd made his decision, and the knowledge tasted sweet, like sugar on his tongue. He would fly again today, as Mr. Awesome. Bobby was right – he'd never stopped being a superhero. How could he? It was something he couldn't change about himself, like where he'd been born or loving Dean.

"Ah, a couple of security features for this wing," Bobby muttered, stopping abruptly in front of an empty stretch of wall. Castiel tilted his head, watching as Bobby pressed his hand clear through the plaster. A retinal scan descended from the ceiling and scanned Bobby's eye, then Castiel's.

`"Welcome, Bobby Singer and Mr. Awesome,"` intoned a computerized voice, and suddenly the wall melted, and Bobby gestured him through to what must surely have been the largest collection of superhero paraphernalia on the planet.

Castiel spotted Mulletman's motorbike, Gumby Girl's stretchy leggings, Conspiracy Man's robot sidekick, and dozens more. But he had eyes only for the red and black of his old costume.

"Have you made some changes?" he asked, frowning.

"Yeah, well, a couple of modifications." Bobby watched him as he circled the case. "Go on," Bobby urged. "Put the damn thing back on."

The case opened at the touch of his hand and then he had his costume in his arms. He knelt on the floor, cradling it to his chest, a little overcome at the rush of memories. There was an unexpected dampness on his cheeks. Bobby cleared his throat.

"I'll leave you two alone," he said gruffly.

Castiel was dimly aware of Bobby shutting a door before he was shrugging out of his trench coat. He folded his civilian clothes neatly before stepping into the costume. The fabric was even softer than he remembered, clinging and molding to his muscles. He looked down and traced the "A" on his chest, and with a thought, he spread his wings. They burst smoothly through the costume, leaving not a tear, thanks to Bobby.

A foot scuffed the floor behind him, and he turned to see Bobby gazing at his wings, a look of wonder on his face. Castiel raised an eyebrow, and the older man turned a bit red.

"Shut up, boy. It's been awhile."

"Too long," Castiel agreed. He straightened his shoulders. "Thank you for keeping it in such good shape. I will return shortly."

"You going to give me any details?"

"Not at this point," Castiel answered gravely.

"You want to take any toys with you?" Bobby spread his hands, indicating the large room sprinkled with superhero paraphernalia. "I have two more rooms just like this. And a boat. And that invisible plane from–"

"I have my own set of wings," Castiel interrupted. Now that the moment was upon him, he was itching to be off.

"Have it your way." Bobby strode to a desk in the corner and rifled through a drawer. "Here. Comms in the mask."

"You are a good man, Bobby Singer." The half-mask fit smoothly across his forehead, obscuring his eyes. Bobby snorted.

"A good man – as I help you break the law. Well, it's a shit law." Bobby hit a button on the desk and a hole opened in the ceiling. "Good luck. Try not to break anything important."

Castiel shot up high, high, high into the sky, leaving Bobby and his mansion far below. Wind whipped through his hair and caressed his wings. The costume was an aerodynamic dream, and he flew faster and faster, going higher and higher.

Los Angeles was a smear in the distance by the time he used the comms to contact Meg. Less than an hour's flight brought him to the coordinates she sent.

He circled the land mass twice. It was a tiny island, a mountain top poking its lush green head up out of the turquoise water. The laboratory was built into the mountain itself, a partial underground bunker. There was no outward sign of the machine Meg wanted him to destroy. The air smelled faintly cloying, like an overabundance of decaying flowers. Castiel wrinkled his nose as he touched down.

The moment his foot hit the earth a THING exploded out of the trees on his left, aimed, and fired at him. He took off again, lightning fast, trying to get a good look at it, but it didn't give him the chance, firing once more. Trees exploded around him, raining blossoms down from the sky. _Decaying flowers_ , he thought, and flew up. Its firing mechanism couldn't reach that angle right away, and he held himself suspended above it for a few precious seconds to assess the machine.

It looked like a bomb on spider legs with multiple arms ending in laser guns. He needed to determine how heavily armored it was. One of the arms was finally swiveling around to fire at him again and he swooped down, grabbed a rock and flew in close, behind the gun, to shove the rock in its muzzle. He half flew, half ran over the top of it before the gun went off. The arm exploded, sending pieces of shrapnel through the air.

The machine protected him from the worst of the damage, the bomb-shaped body studded with metal pieces. A trickle of blood ran into his eye, and he picked a shard out of his forehead, his skin already healing. The machine began to shake, trying to throw him off, and he went willingly, diving down, following the curve until he was beneath it. There was a hatch below and he tugged, even as the machine lurched around above him, searching for him.

He used his superior strength to finally wrench the hatch open, just as one of its arms snaked around and took aim at him. He let go of the hatch and flew at the weaponized arm, grabbing hold of it. The arm reared back, up into the air, in an attempt to throw him off. His wings beat furiously and his legs tightened around the arm, keeping him on. The other two arms were aiming at him now, though, focusing from either side. He let go at the last minute, dropping to the ground as the guns fired, destroying each other instead of Castiel.

The machine reeled in shock, but he didn't give it time to recover, leaping up and grabbing the final arm, flying low to the ground before coming back up beneath the body of the machine. The laser was powered up, prepared to turn on him and blast him to smithereens, but he didn't give it the chance. He shoved it through the hatch just as it tried to fire. He shot up into the air as fast as he could just as the final arm went off inside the heart of the machine.

The explosion was contained by the hard shell of the machine, but it worked. Castiel watched, hovering, as its body distended and it wobbled on its legs, crashing to the earth with a resounding thud, knocking over even more trees. Leaves and branches fluttered through the air, and after a moment, all was still. Castiel landed lightly beside the broken machine. The whole thing had taken ten minutes, tops.

Meg emerged from the tunnel leading to the laboratory and made her way over to him, slow-clapping.

"Bravo, Mr. Awesome. That was some wicked sexy stunt work there."

"It was not very difficult," Castiel told her, flushing. A part of him really wanted Dean to have seen what he just did, to hear Dean say he was impressed, to see Dean's awestruck look. It had been awhile since he had last basked in that.

"Not very difficult?" Meg arched her brow. "We've been trying to get rid of it for months. But okay, Sparky, it wasn't very difficult." She reached into her pocket and brought out a check. Sure enough, it was for twice his old yearly salary from Zachariah. "Listen, Awesomecakes. If we get any more problems, can we count on you?"

Castiel hesitated. He was only planning on doing this once. Just once, getting the money, and telling Dean all about it. But the rush of adrenaline was addicting. He would tell Dean, and they would do the next one together with Sam, just like the old days. He would tell Dean, but tomorrow. Not tonight, just in case he said no. Castiel could still feel Dean's panic from Tuesday night and the frantic look in his eyes as he picked pieces of the burning house out of Castiel's body. He would have to work on Dean.

"You may call me again," he said cautiously. Meg smiled, a knowing look in her eyes.

"Peachy," she said. "Now scat, Mr. Awesome. I have to clean up your mess."

Castiel left her there, hands on her hips as she took in the destruction of the machine. The wind blew his hair back and he couldn't help the laugh of sheer joy that escaped his lips. Mr. Awesome flew again.

***

Dean sat between his sons, pressing the controller with his thumbs and on the screen, Sallah jumped on a horse.

"Okay, now you're supposed to follow me," Balthazar said, before promptly riding over a cliff. Gabriel snorted with laughter as Balthazar scowled at the screen. Lego Indiana Jones faded out and reappeared.

"That's the tenth time you've died this game, little brother," Gabriel teased him. He was sitting out this one, ensconced in a corner of the couch and eating his way through a bag of Twizzlers.

"I seem to recall Gabe dying several times last time I played this," Dean said absently. He had to concentrate on the screen. His sons seemed to be able to play Wii without their brains turned on, but it required some pretty tricky hand-eye coordination for him. Sallah did a random backflip. What the hell?

The side door opened, and Dean could hear Cas greet Uriel in the kitchen. Dean glanced at the clock. 5:15. Cas was early. That could mean something good, or something very bad.

"How do I pause this thing again?" he asked. Gabriel took the controller from him and did it before Balthazar could manage.

"Hey!" Balthazar exclaimed. "I could've done it! I'm not incompetent, you know."

Cas appeared in the entranceway to the living room and Dean's mouth abruptly went dry. The early arrival definitely meant something good. He swallowed with some difficulty, amazed as he always was when Cas looked at him like that, to realize his skin was not, in fact, on fire.

"You take my place, Squirt," he said, ruffling Gabriel's hair. "I need to talk to your Dada."

"Dada, I got a B+ on my math test today!" Balthazar announced proudly.

"That is good news," Cas responded, his voice a low rumble. He offered Dean a hand to pull him off the couch and didn't let go when Dean was standing. He could feel Gabriel's eyes on their joined hands and was reminded suddenly of what Bambi McSnuffy had said. It was not enough to make him want to stop, though. "We shall order pizza tonight to celebrate," Cas continued.

Both boys perked up at that. They were arguing about topping choices as Cas pulled Dean from the room and up the stairs.

"Anna's in her room," Dean warned, practically tripping over his feet in eagerness.

"Doubtlessly playing her music loudly," Cas said, and closed their bedroom door behind them. Dean was on him in a flash.

There were some things that became routine over time – brushing their teeth while sharing the same sink, grocery shopping, choosing what to watch on TV, even, some nights, sex, when the act was just to relieve a little tension and hasten sleep. But foreplay didn't fall into that category – sometimes rushed, sometimes drawn-out, and sometimes not there at all. As Dean fell back onto the bed, he had a feeling this was going to be one of the times it was mostly non-existent.

Cas straddled his hips and kissed him, fingers fumbling at Dean's belt buckle.

"I want to fuck you very badly right now," he said between kisses. Dean huffed a laugh. Cas was either the worst dirty talker ever, or the best, always stating exactly what he wanted with no finesse. It was usually a massive turn-on for Dean, no matter how outlandish his request. Dean reached into the nightstand drawer and felt around for the lube, trying not to break contact between Cas's mouth and his own.

"I take it you had a good day," Dean said into Cas's mouth, dropping the lube on the bed and reaching for Cas's belt, slipping one hand inside his pants. He stilled when he realized the kisses had stopped. "Cas?" he asked, looking up.

"Dean. I had a very good day. I will tell you about it tomorrow." Cas looked so very serious, a frown darkening his brow. "But right now I wish to make love."

"Okay. We can do that."

Dean spared a fleeting thought for what Cas needed to tell him that he didn't want to say now, but it was chased away by Cas's lips and fingers and cock, making him open up and coaxing moans and words of praise and love from him. It had been awhile since they'd done this face-to-face, Cas's wings spread wide behind him, beating the air on each thrust. Dean arched off the bed and held on to Cas. He knew he was whimpering and didn't care, he knew the bed was shaking and didn't care, he knew–

"Da-ad!"

He knew there was a kid who was going to deeply regret that.

"Gabe says we can't order from Romano's. But that's my _favorite_!"

"No one's getting any pizza if you don't go away!" Dean managed to get out. He could hear Balthazar on the other side of the door, muttering to himself. "I mean it, Balthazar!"

He could hear Balthazar's footsteps as he shuffled away. Cas was laughing, his rhythm completely disturbed.

"It's not funny," Dean grumbled. Dammit, he'd been _so close_. It would take forever to get him back up. Though Cas didn't seem to have that problem.

"I think you are especially beautiful when you're angry," he said, and thrust once more, coming inside of Dean as his wings trembled and fluttered. Dean thought Cas was especially beautiful then, but he didn't say so out loud. Though perhaps it showed on his face because when Cas pulled out, he immediately knelt by the bed and took Dean into his mouth. That worked wonders, and just a few minutes later he was coming down Cas's throat.

Cas crawled up the bed and collapsed next to him. Dean gave him a doofy grin. When was the last time they'd had afternoon sex? He couldn't remember. It had probably been interrupted by the kids then, too.

"I think we should get anchovies on the pizza as punishment," he mumbled. He could really fall asleep right then. His jaws creaked in a massive yawn.

"That would be counterproductive," Cas said, eyes twinkling. "You hate anchovies."

"Yeah. They're pretty disgusting."

They both started laughing at the same time.

***

Castiel woke up the next morning feeling something he hadn't since they'd moved to California – relaxed. The whole family had enjoyed dinner the night before, laughing and joking. It turned out Gabriel had convinced Balthazar to knock on their door. Balthazar stole his soda in retaliation, but a full-on fight was averted by the arrival of pizza from Romano's and apparently pizza had magic happy-making qualities. Even Anna smiled and giggled over her pizza.

Castiel stretched and propped himself up on his elbow, the better to watch Dean sleeping beside him. He was still the most beautiful man Castiel had ever seen. The morning sun crept beneath the blinds to highlight his face. There were lines on his forehead and crow's feet around his eyes. Laugh lines, Castiel corrected himself, not crow's feet. Plus a few strands of gray at his temples, fewer than Castiel himself had. The hair made him look distinguished. Still, they both looked younger than they were, thanks to their superpowered blood.

"Are you counting my freckles again?" Dean mumbled into his pillow without opening his eyes.

"You still have thirty-four," Castiel informed him.

"Thank God. If one wandered off during the night, I don't know what I'd do." He cracked open an eye. "Wait, why are we still in bed? Don't you have to get up for work?"

Castiel opened his mouth with every intention of telling the truth, but just then he heard his phone vibrate, gently knocking on the nightstand. It had to be Meg. He had made no friends at the insurance agency, and Sam, his best friend in the world other than Dean, would call them both at the same time, or just Dean.

"I do not have to go to work today," he said instead, "because I have been invited to go to a conference in San Diego. It starts later in the morning."

"That's great!" Dean looked genuinely happy for him and Castiel felt a shiver of unease. He should tell Dean. He really should. After this next job. Dean reached for him then and his brain ceased its higher functions. Dean's body fit so nicely above his own, and Dean sucked on his neck as he slowly jerked them both off. Surely Castiel could be forgiven a delay. He would tell Dean that night.

"I love you!" he gasped when he came. Dean rarely said such things aloud, but Castiel did not see the logic in holding back. He loved Dean when he fucked him, loved Dean when he was angry at him, loved Dean when he kept secrets from him, loved Dean when he worried about him. He liked that Dean knew it.

He checked his messages when Dean was in the shower. It was indeed from Meg, asking him to come back to the island. Her employer wanted to meet him and talk about another job. Castiel chewed his lip. He could go and see if the employer was someone Dean and Sam would consider working for, too. It would be like a reconnaissance mission. He quickly texted back his intention to meet her at the agreed-upon time and got out of bed. The water was still running in the bathroom. Perhaps Dean would like to share his shower.

Castiel made breakfast, a rare occurrence. He could feel Anna's eyes on him as he stood at the stove, flipping pumpkin chocolate chip pancakes.

"Dada?" she asked when he brought her a plate. "Can I talk to you about something important after school today?"

"Of course you can, Rosebud," he said. Dean had filled him in on what he'd found out about Stan – did she want to talk about sex again? He tried to remember Sam's advice, and settled for smoothing the frown that had already appeared on his face.

"Thanks, Dada." She threw an arm around his neck and rubbed her nose against his, something she hadn't done since she was ten years old. Castiel's heart lurched in his chest.

Castiel saw them all off less than an hour later. Dean made noises about giving him the Impala for the day to go to the conference, and Castiel panicked for a minute, before hitting upon the excuse of a carpool with other people from work. Thankfully Dean didn't ask for names, just kissed him deeply and left with the kids.

Castiel changed into his costume and immediately took to the air. The world spread out beneath him. He imagined a tiny black car way down below was Dean and the kids at the high school, an even smaller blue car was Sam pulling up to his practice. He soon reached the ocean and amused himself by diving down to the water and leaping the waves. How had he ever thought he could give this up? He needed to be out superhero-ing, with Dean and Sam beside him and soon, their kids. Could they ever be truly happy any other way?

The island rose up to meet him. He landed in the same place where he'd defeated the machine the day before.

"Strong, handsome _and_ punctual," Meg drawled, stepping out from behind a tree. "It's too bad you're such a happily married man."

"You are a lovely woman, Meg," Castiel said. "You should try flirting with someone who cares."

Her eyes narrowed at that. He was only being honest, but he knew he could've worded it differently. He gave her his most innocent smile.

"It's this way," she said, turning on her heel. "Try to keep up."

He followed her into the mouth of the cave, but instead of leading him through the dark tunnel, she opened a small door in the wall and beckoned him inside and into an elevator. The higher they rose the higher her spirits rose.

They came to a stop and stepped out into a room with walls made up of windows. From this vantage point, Castiel could look out over half the island in one direction, and the ocean in the other. The view was breathtaking.

"Mr. Awesome," a man's voice sounded from above him. "I have wanted to see you again for a very long time."

Castiel's eyes darted around the room. He could not see the source of the voice, never a good sign. "Who do I have the honor of addressing?"

"I must admit, I'm a little disappointed you don't recognize my voice. Could you possibly have forgotten the Devil's Advocate?"

"The Devil's Advocate was defeated over twenty years ago," Castiel replied sharply. "I know this, as I was there. Your voice sounds nothing like his lisp."

Meg laughed a little breathlessly. "Did you really think a new Advocate wouldn't rise in his place?"

Castiel's hackles rose. He should have left the bench the minute Meg had sat down. There had been something about the way she spoke to him, even then, that should have raised a red flag.

"Why would one want to?" Castiel turned on her. He should have known, _he should have known_ that this was too good to be true. A rich employer right when he lost his job? The opportunity to be a real superhero again? He was kidding himself. He needed to get out of there. "The Devil's Advocate was beloved of no one," he baited them.

"That's a lie!" Meg responded hotly. "The Devil's Advocate has followers in every country. Powerful followers. We will crush you, Mr. Awesome!"

"That's enough, Meg. He's trying to trick you into monologuing at him." The Devil's Advocate's voice was coming from a couple of cleverly hidden speakers, Castiel decided. Which meant he could be anywhere in the world right now. Or concealed in the bomb-like body of one of the machines moving through the trees, just visible out the fantastic view.

Meg looked chagrined. "May I finish him?" she asked. "I want to roast his wings."

Castiel didn't wait for her. He threw himself at a window. Glass shattered from the impact and then he was falling for a second before he spread his wings and flew away. Or tried to. At least one of the machines had been modified from the one he'd faced and destroyed yesterday. Instead of lasers or bullets, this arm shot a net.

He slammed into the ground, sending up a great geyser of dirt and mud. Pain lanced through his back. One of his wings was broken. It would need a couple of hours, at least, to fully heal. But he didn't have a couple of hours. The ground shook with the approach of another machine.

Castiel struggled to his feet, pushing the net off, and ran towards the water. A machine followed him, then another. He darted in front of one and it fired at him, missing and hitting its fellow machine. He was a little surprised at the amount of destruction that caused – their firepower must have also been adjusted after yesterday.

Two machines still chased him. His blood pounded loudly in his ears to the tune of his family's names. He had to get back to them. They were in danger because of him, he was sure of it. He made for the tunnel mouth. The machines couldn't fit, and maybe he could find something inside that could help him. It wasn't a good chance, but it was the only one he had at the moment.

***

Dean met his brother for lunch every Friday. It was a sacred tradition, like who smelt it dealt it and rock-paper-scissors. Dean's favorite place in town was a fake German pub called Oktoberfest, and his favorite waitress was a sunny blonde named Jamie. While Castiel was running for his life on an unnamed island just off the coast, Dean was accepting a foaming tankard from the charming Jamie. He grinned at her as she took their order, and ordered a salad with his brats.

"A salad?" Sam asked incredulously.

"What? I can't be healthy?" He brought his tankard up to his face and took a big gulp. Foam stuck to the end of his nose.

"Don't kid yourself, Dean. Your lunch is most definitely _not_ healthy." Sam reached across the table and flicked the foam off his nose.

"Ouch! Careful, were you raised by wolves?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I was raised by _you_. So, yes, basically."

Dean grinned again. He just could not contain his good mood.

"Seriously, Dean, what is up with you today?"

Dean waited until Sam was taking a sip of his iced tea to reply. "I've had sex four times in the past twenty-four hours!"

In retrospect, he probably should have waited until he also had a spit shield up, as Sam sprayed iced tea across the table.

"Dean!" Sam protested, choking. "Don't tell me this shit!"

"Then don't ask, Sammy!"

Further arguments were put on hold as their lunches were set down before them. Dean had just smothered his healthy salad in creamy dressing when his phone rang.

"The high school?" Sam asked, taking a break from glaring disapprovingly at Dean's attempt at salad.

Dean looked down at the screen. "It's Bobby," he announced. They'd kept in touch over the years, but Bobby was a very busy man and in high demand in the fashion scene. It had been at least three weeks since their last phone call.

"Bobby! How the hell are you, old man?"

"Do you know where your husband is?" Bobby asked.

"I'm fine, Bobby, thanks for asking, and Sam sends all the love in his big girly heart." Dean stabbed at a piece of lettuce with his fork and lifted it, dripping, to his mouth. "Cas is at a conference in San Diego," he said with his mouth full.

"A conference, huh?"

"Why the fuck you asking about my husband? You lost your chance there, Bobby, he loves only me. It says so in the vows," he laughed. Sam chuckled and took a bite of his (healthy) salad.

"I'm not after your lover boy, idjit," Bobby groused. "Listen, did he tell you he came to see me yesterday?"

Dean was silent, his brows knitting together. Across from him, Sam's smile faltered in reaction.

"I take it from your radio silence he didn't. Dammit."

"Why'd he come see you, Bobby?" Cas had been in such a great mood yesterday – after work, Dean thought. But maybe not. What the hell had he been doing?

"He said he didn't want to get you two involved–"

"Tough shit."

"Quit interrupting me, son."

Dean's mouth shut in a hard, firm line. Sam had abandoned his lunch and was leaning forward as far across the table as he could reach.

"Now. He came to get his costume, said he had to be Mr. Awesome for a day," Bobby began.

"And you just let him?! Bobby, it's illegal for him to wear that thing!"

"And Bobby was aiding and abetting," Sam hissed, following along from Dean's side of the conversation.

"Don't feed me that tripe, I know you three use your powers illicitly all the time!" Bobby shot back.

"But we don't _advertise_!" Dean retorted.

"Hence it's illicit," Sam said, nodding.

"You wanna know what happened to Cas, or you wanna sit there holding your dicks and arguing about whose fault it is?"

That shut them both up, and Bobby expelled a huge breath before continuing.

" _Anyway_. He had the costume, but I'd made some modifications to it – technology's advanced a shit-ton in the past twenty years. I put some comms in the mask and a tracking device in the 'A'. Less than an hour ago, the comms lit up like a Christmas tree. Massive interference. I can't tell what the hell was going on. And about ten minutes ago, they went dead."

Dean was dangerously close to throwing up his healthy lunch. He closed his eyes. When he spoke again, it was in Righteous Man's voice. "Did you get anything salvageable from the transmission?"

Sam made a noise, quickly cut off.

"Yeah. I heard a name," Bobby said. "Devil's Advocate."

***

Dean was pacing. It took him six seconds to go the length of the back alley in one direction. Sam had counted. He glanced down at his phone, finishing the text to his assistant to cancel the rest of his appointments for the day, as his brother reached the dumpsters again. Bobby had said it would take him five minutes to fly there from his place in LA using his invisible jet, ten minutes because he wanted to grab a few supplies from his storeroom. Sam had thought Dean was going to jump through the phone if it would take any longer than that.

He sighed and leaned back against Oktoberfest's wall. Cas hadn't told Dean, that was the rub. Honesty in a relationship was so important, and you didn't need to be a therapist to figure that out. Cas had lied to them both. Sam just couldn't figure out _why_.

"Dean," he said.

"Nope." Dean held up a hand, turning at the dumpsters, again. "Don't therapy-me, Sammy. My top priority is getting Cas out safe. I can rip him a new one later."

"I'm sure he had his reasons," Sam tried, and Dean rounded on him.

"Did you not just hear me, Sam? I. Do. Not. Want. To. Talk. About. This!"

Sam was saved from calling his brother a few choice words by a sudden draft of air and the appearance of Bobby Singer, floating in midair in the middle of the alley.

"Dean, Sam, I'm hovering right above the roofs here." Dean was already moving towards him. "Grab a-hold of the ladder and I'll just beam us up."

Sam was relieved to find that the interior of the invisible jet was clearly visible once they were inside. It was completely irrational to think it wouldn't be, of course, but try telling the mind that. In fact, Sam had kind of been thinking it would look cooler than a regular jet on the inside, but in that he was disappointed. 

Bobby clapped Dean on the shoulder. "How you holding up?"

"I just want to find him, Bobby," Dean said, shaking his head. Sam shot Bobby a commiserating look.

"Well, I can help you there." Bobby gestured them towards the controllers and computer in the cockpit. "You see that blinking red 'A'? That's your man."

Dean and Sam both leaned forwards. 

"There's an island under that 'A', right?" Sam asked.

"Thirty nautical miles from shore," Bobby confirmed. "Just a hop, skip and a jump away."

"Great! Let's go get him." Dean sat down in the pilot's seat and reached for the controllers.

"Whoa, Dean, hang on." Sometimes, Sam thought his superhero name should really have been 'The Voice of Reason' – except he hated that look Dean got on his face whenever he used it. Hell, sometimes he hated being the voice of reason, too. "We need a plan, _something_. Cas is trapped on that island, and he was prepared, plus more powerful than either of us. We can't just barge in there. And what about Devil's Advocate?"

"We destroyed Devil's Advocate, remember? Whoever this is, he's a wannabe. We can take him!"

"Dean, you're not thinking clearly–"

"Damn straight, I'm not thinking clearly!" Dean roared. "He has my Cas! Mine! I'm getting him back, Sam."

Sam watched the little vein throb on his brother's forehead and reached for his power. Images flashed in his mind – cities in smoking ruins, fires burning unchecked, heaps of decaying bodies. He blinked, surprised to find himself on the floor with Dean and Bobby kneeling on either side of him.

"Um. Okay." He sat up shakily. "You're right, Dean. You need to get Cas back. But I can't go with you."

"What did you see, Sammy?"

He breathed through his nose for a moment. He used to vomit after visions when he was just getting his powers. Dean had taken to carrying airline vomit bags and mints in his pockets.

"I saw what would happen if Devil's Advocate isn't stopped – utter destruction. Dean, I have to figure out how he's going to do whatever he's going to do. And you need to get Mr. Awesome back so we have a prayer of stopping him."

Dean nodded slowly. "Right. Bobby, how do you feel about getting in some Uncle Bobby time with the kids? And can I borrow your jet?"

Bobby rose with an 'oof'. "You're leaving me with the hellspawn and taking my wings? Why am I not surprised? But here, look at this first." He moved to the storage containers lining the sides of the jet and opened one. Dean pulled Sam to his feet and they joined him.

"Costumes?" Dean asked. "There are five here, Bobby."

"Your kids are coming into their powers," Bobby said, shrugging. "And yours were stolen from that exhibit in LA ten years ago."

"I think what Dean's trying to say is, first, thanks, Bobby," Sam said. "But also, maybe not for the kids just yet."

They looked cool, though. Sam touched the one intended for him, ran a finger over the big 'A.' He liked it better than having a 'ME,' which had always looked really arrogant.

"Yeah, what Sam said." Dean picked up his new costume. "How come we all have to share Cas's name?"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "You're a _family_. Solidarity and all that. Besides," Bobby said, grimacing, "Righteous Man? It's pretentious, and the 'Righteouses' ain't exactly going to roll off anyone's tongue."

"Eh. I'll give you that. Thanks, Bobby."

Bobby waved it off. "I've been working on them since our last phone call. They were a lot more fun to do than my Spring Collection. Anna's even turns invisible!" 

Then he bent and opened another container. Sam gasped and Dean let out a low whistle. "That's a lot of firepower."

Sam had to agree. He recognized a few from back in the day, but there were clearly a few new additions. He stretched his hand out over the weapons and opened his mind. He passed on the bazooka and a couple of harpoons, a bright green crossbow and several handguns with a variety of bullets, and then he had a vision: his hands on the hilt of a dagger. He chose that one, plus a shotgun and smaller gun.

They took off for the high school a few minutes later. Sam could read Dean's impatience to get going in the set of his shoulders and tapping of his foot, but he also needed to physically see and hold the kids before his mission.

Anna and Gabriel were rather bewildered at being picked up early from school in an invisible jet by their father, uncle and family friend, but Balthazar was suitably impressed. Probably because he was twelve.

"But, _where_ is Dada?" Anna asked again.

"Who cares about that, why can't we go help?" Gabriel asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Sam held up his hands in a placating gesture and stopped abruptly when he realized he was doing 'simmer down, kids,' un-ironically. Dean just cut to the chase.

"He's in trouble, is where he is, but I can rescue him. And you two – three," he added as Balthazar looked to be chiming in, "can't come because I can't save Dada if I'm worried about protecting you, too."

"But we _wouldn't_ get in the way!" Anna protested. "I'm almost eighteen years old, Dad."

" _Almost_ ," Dean was quick to point out. Sam restrained himself from pointing out the hypocrisy in his brother's statement. Gabriel didn't hold back.

"Grampa Winchester was taking you guys on missions when Uncle Sam was Balthazar's age!"

"And he was wrong!" Dean yelled. Sam stared at him. Dean never criticized their deceased father, but his brother was at the end of his rope now. Sam needed to step in, and fast.

"We don't have time to argue," he said. "You guys can help your dad best by being safe, and practicing your skills with Bobby. When he gets back with Cas, we're going to need your help on a very special mission."

"'Very special mission'? Come on, Uncle Sam, don't patronize us," Gabriel said. Anna nodded, crossing her arms and trying to give him a stern look reminiscent of Cas. It was pretty good. Balthazar mimicked her, except he looked like a stoned poodle instead of a wrathful Castiel.

"I'm not patronizing you," Sam protested. He'd hated it whenever his father did that to him when he was a kid. Sam used logic. There was a difference. "I'm telling the truth. I've seen what could happen. We'll need your help soon. Just stay safe for now, okay?"

Anna and Gabriel exchanged a look. Sam was forcibly reminded of how he and Dean used to communicate without words when they were kids. He looked over at his brother. Dean was frowning at his two oldest. Sam could practically see the wheels turning in his mind.

"Okay," Anna answered finally. "We'll stay safe. You win."

Sam narrowed his eyes. That wording left a lot of wriggle room. But Dean seemed to accept her at her word.

"Good," he said, and pulled each of his kids into a hug. "Bobby," he called into the cockpit. "Can you land this thing in our backyard?"

It turned out he could. Dean helped them unload one of the storage containers of weapons for Bobby, just in case, and changed into his Awesome costume. Sam had to admit, Dean really looked the part, despite twenty years and an extra ten pounds. He was looking forward to wearing his own costume. He clasped forearms with his brother, trying to put as much support into the manly squeeze as he could. This would be the first time in a very long time that Dean went off to fight a bad guy by himself. _But Dean's not going to engage Devil's Advocate yet,_ Sam reminded himself. _He's going to get Cas and we'll take this douche on together._

Anna gave Dean one more hug – "for Dada" – before he disappeared into the invisible jet and took off.

Sam turned to his niece and nephews. "Will you promise _me_ you'll stay with Bobby and do what he tells you to do?"

"Yes, Uncle Sam," Anna and Gabriel said in unison, Balthazar chiming in a bit late. Okay, the unison thing was a little weird. _But_ , he thought a little later, walking back to Oktoberfest to get the Impala, a duffle full of weapons and a superhero costume slung over his shoulder, _Anna and Gabe have Dean and Cas for parents. They're bound to be a little weird._

He really hoped that was it.

***

In Castiel's opinion, Dean had several sayings that he must not have thought through before adopting, and one of the grossest was 'screw the pooch.' Well, Castiel had thoroughly screwed the pooch this time. He was wedged tight between a rock and the cave wall at the end of the tunnel. The machines hadn't been able to follow him, as he thought, but they were waiting for him at the other end, where the side of the island fell away to reveal an enormous launch pad. He would have admired the screen Devil's Advocate had created to conceal it if only Castiel had not fallen for it the day before. And if only it hadn't been hiding several rocket shuttles. Another machine joined the first two as he watched and attached itself to one of the shuttles.

He didn't swear often, but the situation called for a good hard 'Fuck!'

It was immediately compounded by the appearance of Devil's Advocate and Meg.

"The test goes forward as planned, Meg. It's not your place to question me," he said threateningly. Castiel squinted, trying to get a look at his face. He didn't recognize him, never mind his new voice. Devil's Advocate was tall, but not as tall as Sam, with sandy hair and droopy eyes. The previous Devil's Advocate had been near-emaciated, and more weathered, with close-cropped gray hair.

"No questions here!" Meg said. Her eyes were even wider than usual for Castiel to be able to notice from his hiding place. "I just wish we had Mr. Awesome's body. Don't you want some crispy wings?"

"Mr. Awesome served his purpose. My pets dealt with him."

Meg glanced at one of the machines, her lips twisting. Devil's Advocate noticed.

"Come now, Meg! You'll hurt their feelings. Each of my babies has enough firepower to–"

But Castiel didn't hear, as the 'A' on his costume suddenly started to beep. His hands flew to his chest, trying to stop the noise, and the rock in front of him exploded. Devil's Advocate advanced on him, laser gun trained unerringly on his head. Meg followed, tripping in her eagerness. Castiel tried flexing his broken wing, but it was no use.

"Meg," Devil's Advocate said, and she gestured, fire flying from her fingertips to form a ring around him. He took an inadvertent step forward as heat crawled up the wall of the cave.

Yes, the pooch was royally screwed now.

***

Dean needed to loosen up his grip, or else he was going to break Bobby's incredible invisible jet. Why would Cas go running off without him and Sam? They were a team, dammit! He told Cas everything. _Everything_. Even about how he was afraid of growing old and undesirable, or treating their kids like his father had treated him and Sam. He'd even told him about Gabriel's little transgression, which, yeah, had been a little thing, but wasn't it the little things that counted? He'd seen it stitched on a pillow once so surely it must be true.

He couldn't bring himself to laugh at his own dumb joke.

He was approaching the island now and would need to look for a place to land, preferably as close to the blinking 'A' on his screen as he could get. He set the controls to autopilot and slid out of the pilot's chair to load up on weapons from Bobby's arsenal. He stubbed his toe on one of the storage containers and swore. So did the storage container.

"Gabriel Winchester-Novak, if your ass is in this jet, show yourself right now and maybe I won't toss you into the ocean."

The storage container turned into his son, rubbing his eye. "Um," Gabriel started. Dean held up a hand.

"Anna Winchester-Novak. Front and center."

Anna flickered into being in the middle of the jet. _Well look at that, the costume really does turn invisible. Bobby hasn't lost his touch._ Dean crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"You need someone to watch your back!" Gabriel burst out.

"Dada's important to us, too!" Anna chimed in.

"We want to fight, Dad!"

"We're ready for this!"

Dean cleared his throat. They both fell silent. He contacted Bobby on the comms. Anna and Gabriel exchanged a glance.

"Bobby! How's it going there?" he asked. He kept his eyes on his kids. Gabriel was starting to fidget, his fingers plucking at his costume, but Anna stood ramrod straight.

"We're playing 'Go Fish,'" Bobby answered.

"You're playing 'Go Fish' with a seventeen-year-old, a fourteen-year-old and a twelve-year-old?"

"Yeah. Balthazar's winning. Anna and Gabriel are really terrible players."

Dean could feel a headache coming on. What the hell was he going to do with these kids?

"Bobby. Anna and Gabriel are illusions, probably incredibly realistic ones. But they actually stowed away on the jet with me and I'm staring right at them."

Bobby was quiet on his end of the line and then surprisingly enough, he laughed. "Dean," he said, "you got just the kids you deserved. Illusions, huh? That explains a lot."

"Yeah, thanks for your support, Bobby. Can you put Balthazar on the phone?"

Dean watched Anna and Gabriel carefully as the line crackled a bit before Balthazar's voice offered a timid, "Hi, Dad."

"Hey, Munchkin. Did you know what Anna and Gabriel were planning?"

"Yes," Balthazar whispered.

"I see. And why didn't you come, too?"

None of the kids were expecting that, he could tell. Dean smirked. Ha, he could still throw his kids for a loop. They should keep that in mind.

"I don't have any powers!" Balthazar exclaimed. "I'm worthless!"

"No, kid, you're not. Here's what you're going to do: you're going to put on that costume your Uncle Bobby made you, and you and Bobby are going to help Sam find out everything there is to know about the new Devil's Advocate. Half the battle is fought in the library, and you don't need any super powers for that, just a finely honed brain."

It was something Sam had been telling him for years, and Dean had always blown it off, but now they'd been blindsided by this threat and really needed the information. And he'd be damned if any kid of his ever felt he was worthless.

"So, does that mean . . .?" Gabriel asked hopefully, nodding towards the cockpit, where the island was fast appearing in the windows.

"It means you do _exactly_ what I tell you. If I say freeze, you freeze. If I tell you to get back in this jet and go, you do it. I am deadly serious. This is not a game, and I will not risk your lives. You obey, or I am twisting this jet apart to keep you on it. Do you understand?"

The kids' eyes grew as big as saucers during his speech, and they nodded vigorously.

"Yes, Dad," Anna agreed.

"Whatever you say," Gabriel said.

"Okay, now, Balthazar? Put Uncle Bobby back on the phone."

"You're on speaker, Dean, I've heard every word," Bobby said.

"Oh. Well, saves time. You on board for this, old man?"

"I'm old, not senile." Bobby snorted. "It certainly sounds better than another game of 'Go Fish.' I'll call your brother. You three don't get yourselves killed. Your Dada wouldn't like that very much."

"Neither would I!" Balthazar's voice piped up.

"We'll all try to survive," Dean said firmly. "I'll contact you again when we have Cas." He hesitated for a minute, but what the hell. In for a penny, in for a pound. "Munchkin?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Iloveyou." He cleared his throat. "I love you. Now be good for your uncles."

"I love you, too, Dad!" Dean could picture Balthazar's face splitting into a wide grin. It was a good picture. He switched off the comms and looked at his other two kids. Gabriel's mouth was hanging open.

"You're catching flies, Gabe." Dean reached out and pushed his chin up with two fingers. "And before you ask – yes, I love you two as well. Despite this ridiculous stunt you've pulled."

Anna beamed at him and threw her arms around his neck. "I love you, too, Dad," she mumbled into his shoulder.

"Me, too," Gabriel said, surprising Dean with an awkward hug.

"That's good." Dean patted both their heads. God, they'd gotten tall. Well, not Gabe really, but taller than they'd been. When had that happened? He blinked. It was damp in the jet. "Okay, before our teeth rot from all this sweetness, let's get some gear together. And look," the island entirely filled the windows now, "we're coming up on our landing site."

They all stared as they rounded a curve in the island and came to rest on a launch pad holding three huge bowling ball-shaped spider monsters attached to modified rocket shuttles, a man and woman who had to be Devil's Advocate and sidekick . . . and Cas, wings askew, surrounded by a ring of fire.

***

Sam blew a bit of dust off the binder and sighed. If only they had a _name_ for this new Devil's Advocate incarnation. Instead, they were stuck poring over real estate transactions and shipping manifests at Dean's office. The bell above the door to _Land & Sea_ jingled as Ava came back in, carrying two more binders, trailed by Balthazar.

"The last two!" Ava announced, waving the binders in the air. "Balthazar here got them from next door."

"Is that, strictly speaking, legal?" Bobby asked, peering at them over his glasses.

"Oh, we have an agreement with the real estate agency next door," Ava replied blithely. "All of their confidential records they keep under lock and key in a couple of back offices. The public domain stuff we totally have access to."

Sam glanced at Balthazar. His nephew was making the weirdest face at him, like a cow with a facial tic.

"You okay, man?" he asked.

Balthazar's eyes widened comically. "Bathroom," he whispered, and went tearing off to the back of the office.

Sam scratched his head and noticed Ava and Bobby looking at him.

"Should I check on him?" he asked. The therapist in him answered with a resounding 'yes.'

"Yeah," they said in unison.

He sighed again and got to his feet. His clothes slipped and slid over his costume, but he didn't want to freak Ava out by walking around in red spandex. He'd made Balthazar put civilian clothes on over his costume, too, when he'd picked him and Bobby up in the Impala.

Sam stopped at the bathroom door and rapped his knuckles against it. "Everything okay in there?"

Balthazar poked his head out. "Uncle Sam. Please come in."

Sam raised an eyebrow when Balthazar locked the door behind him.

"You're going to want to be sitting for this," Balthazar told him. Sam grimaced. The toilet didn't have a cover.

"I'll stand, thanks. What is this about?"

"Watch carefully." Balthazar stood in front of the closed door, took a breath, and slowly pushed his hand through the wood and drew it back inside.

Sam gasped, his ass hitting the toilet seat before he leaped back up. "Balthazar!" he exclaimed, enveloping his nephew in a massive bear hug. "You're coming into your powers!"

Balthazar wriggled out of his embrace and jumped up and down with excitement. "I've been trying all week! I practiced on the lockers of the kids at school, but it didn't work and they accused me of being a rat bastard thief."

Sam blinked. "Wait. Those notebooks Ava brought in–"

"Dad said we had to find out everything we could about Devil's Advocate, Uncle Sam! Everyone knows the good stuff is behind a lock."

"You walked through a door?"

Balthazar nodded. "And it was _hard_. But it will get easier, right?"

"Come here," he said, pulling Balthazar into another hug. He resolutely did not reach for his own power – Balthazar potentially robbing the entire world blind was a concern for another day. "Yeah, it gets easier," he said instead. "But always keep in mind–"

"That I'm an Awesome," Balthazar finished for him. "And the first rule of being an Awesome is 'don't be a douche.'"

Dean had taught his kids well.

There was another knock on the door.

"Not to interrupt the male bonding, but we found something out here," Bobby's gruff voice sounded through the wood.

Balthazar stuck his hand through the door and waved. Sam could hear Bobby yelp and back into the opposite wall.

"Remember the douche part," Sam whispered and opened the door. Bobby shook his head at Balthazar.

"Ain't none of us safe now," he said mournfully. "Come on, boys, and take a look."

They gathered around the table Dean and Ava used for 'staff meetings' (lunches and coffee breaks). She tapped the open page of the notebook. "These coordinates here match those of the island you were looking for," she said. "It was legitimately bought and paid for in May of 2009 by a corporation – Lilith Cosmetics."

Sam turned to Dean's computer and did a search on 'Lilith Cosmetics.'

"Shit," he swore softly.

"What is it, Sam?" Bobby asked.

"Lilith Cosmetics has labs all over the world. Researching 'natural' makeup and perfume. And look," he continued, pointing to their elegant website, "their labs are in remote locations, surrounded by 'nature.' How much you want to bet they're hiding something there?"

Ava's eyes opened wide. "Wait, is this a conspiracy? I thought you were doing research for Dean's story on those kids who tried to be pirates. You know, off the coast."

"I made that up," Sam said. Dammit, he liked Ava. He really hoped she could keep her mouth shut.

"Really? I thought it sounded cool."

"Look, Ava, Dean will tell you more about this next week. Right now, can you help see what was delivered to Lilith Cosmetics at that island?"

Balthazar was looking between the two of them, back and forth like he was watching a tennis match. Sam hoped for his sake that Ava didn't need a further explanation, and if she did, that she wasn't one of those nuts who blamed superheroes for every red light, every spilled cup of coffee.

"Okay," Ava agreed, and gave him a sunny smile. "This is the most fun I've had doing research in ages," she confessed. "What are you going to do, Sam?"

"I am going to become an expert on Lilith Cosmetics."

***

Castiel felt a puff of wind against his cheek. The flames lowered and danced for a moment before rising to their previous height. He gazed across them at Meg. She hadn't noticed, busy conferring with Devil's Advocate over the best way to roast his wings, no doubt. He surreptitiously flexed the broken one. It was nearly healed. If she just kept talking, he would have a prayer.

But Devil's Advocate was turning away now, disappearing back up the tunnel, and Meg fixed her full attention on her trapped superhero. Castiel gathered his strength.

"Any final words, Mr. Awesome?" she taunted him.

And Dean fell from the sky, slamming her into the ground. Castiel gaped at him, until the empty air called with Anna's voice, "Dada! Get out of the fire!"

Of course! That was sensible advice, and his mind chose to give it to him in Anna's voice. He should get out of the fire. He pushed against the wall of flame with all his strength, and it pushed back. Dean was slowly throttling Meg, but her eyes were fixed on Castiel. It was a toss-up who would run out of air first – Meg or Castiel. Then suddenly another Castiel surrounded by fire appeared to his left, then another, and one more on his right. Meg blinked, and as her concentration faltered, so did his fire. He burst through, embers singeing his skin, just as she lost consciousness and the fake Castiels faded away.

"Dean," Castiel rasped.

He was the most awesome sight Castiel had ever seen – tall and strong and _righteous_ , brimming with power, and with Castiel's mark worn proudly on his chest. Castiel's throat went dry from want and smoke.

"We are going to have a long talk about this when we get out of here, Cas," Dean said roughly. "Don't think just because you look at me like that, I'm just gonna roll over and let you have your way."

"How am I looking at you, Dean?" Castiel asked, drinking in the sight of him.

Dean mumbled something inarticulate, not even words, and reached for him, crushing their lips together. One arm circled his waist, right up under his wings, and the other cupped his cheek. Castiel sighed happily and kissed him back, hands on Dean's shoulders.

"Uh, Dad? Dada? There are these big rocket thingies over here. Maybe we should, you know, do something about them?"

And now the air was speaking to him in Gabriel's voice. Though Castiel's conscience would never say 'rocket thingies.'

"Dean," he said, breaking the kiss, "are our children floating in midair?"

"Technically, no," Dean said. "They're hovering. In an invisible jet." He pointed up and Castiel followed his gaze. Anna and Gabriel were looking down at them through a hatch. Castiel could barely tell it was the interior of a jet behind their heads.

"Balthazar's with Uncle Sam," Anna informed him. "Are you okay, Dada?"

"Did you see how I made all those fake you's, Dada?" Gabriel asked eagerly. "And look! Do you see our cool outfits? They're just like yours!"

Castiel didn't know what to say first, but Dean saved him the trouble. "Get down here, you two. Gabe was right – we need to stop these rockets."

It was quite surreal, watching his children climb down the empty air. Anna leaped into his arms when she was a few feet off the ground. "We were worried about you, Dada," she mumbled, face in his shoulder.

"I am very sorry for that, Rosebud," he said, touched by her concern. "I am much better now that you're here."

She beamed at him.

"Get out of the way, Anna, I can't reach the ground!" Gabriel called from above them. Castiel let his daughter go, only to get an armful of his son. "Thanks! But you can put me down, I don't need to have a heart-to-heart."

He clunked a bit when Castiel set him on the ground, due to the two packs he'd thrown over his shoulders. He gave one to Dean and the other to Castiel. "They're weapons and tools from Uncle Bobby," he said in response to Castiel's questioning look. "Dad said we weren't allowed to handle them without permission."

"Is there anything in here that could disarm a rocket?" Castiel asked.

"Hopefully. We didn't know what to expect when we got here." Dean shrugged his pack on and grabbed Gabriel by the hand, ignoring their son's indignant squawk. "Gabe and I will take one rocket, you and Anna another, and we'll meet at the last. Deal?"

Castiel nodded, a ghost of a smile quirking his lips. "Deal. This is almost like old times."

And like old times, Dean leaned forward to kiss him, swiftly, before running into danger. Castiel took Anna by the hand and followed. They had just made it to their assigned rockets when the shuttle engines began to fire up.

"We'll have to be quick about this!" Dean yelled over to them above the noise.

Sometimes Dean liked to state the obvious. It was a quirk Castiel found endearing.

"Anna, open the bag and see if there is anything like a pair of pliers in there," Castiel told her. He located the control panel quickly enough and ripped it open, but inside was a mess of wires.

"Will this work?" Anna asked, pulling out a pair of lurid green pliers.

"Yes. Now I just need to figure out which lines to cut." His wings twitched behind him in agitation. The broken one was finally healed, and he stretched it unconsciously as he stared at the wires.

"Dada, a few of them are glowing green," Anna said. She was right. He brought the pliers up to the panel, and several wires glowed the same lurid green color as the pliers. "So, we cut those?"

"Bobby made these pliers," Castiel said. "These wires have to be glowing for a reason."

He snipped the first one, and the engine stuttered. Anna gave him an excited look and he hurriedly snipped the second and third. The engine made a loud whining noise. The fires died out with the final cut wire.

"Dean!" Castiel called over his shoulder. "You need to use–"

"The ugly-ass pliers," Dean finished for him, as he and Gabriel ran up to them. "Last one to the third rocket's a rotten egg!" 

Anna followed hot on their heels. And the ground exploded.

***

Dean fell to his knees as the earth buckled beneath him, instinctively going into a roll. He came to a stop near Anna, and as a large piece of cement from the launch pad flew at them, he met it with his fist, smashing it into hundreds of tiny pieces.

"Cas! Gabe!" he yelled over the sound of explosions and gun fire. "Where are you?" If anything had happened to them . . .

"Dad!" Anna shouted, pointing. Gabriel was lying several yards away and a fucking metal spider, just like the ones on the rocket shuttles, was advancing on him. Dean took off in that direction, though he was much too far and the spider was much too close. He was screaming something, he had no idea what, when the spider fired with one of its arms.

"Nooooooo!" Anna shrieked, and _something_ shot out of her hands. The spider's laser beam hit an invisible shield and rebounded back on it. Dean almost fell again.

"What did you just do?"

"I have no idea!" Anna yelled back.

"Whatever it was, keep it up!" They reached Gabriel then, and Dean knelt by his son as Anna stood over them, practically hyperventilating but still maintaining their shield.

"Where's Dada, where's Dada?" she mumbled.

Dean wanted to know that, too, _ached_ to know that, but right now Gabriel was sitting up, struggling to breathe. His breath came in a wheezing rattle as he finally got his wind back, actually a good sign, but the noise freaked Anna out and she lost concentration.

"Gabe! Dad, is he–"

"Anna, get that shield back up!"

The spider's arm reared back, preparing to fire again, when Castiel flew at it, grabbing the end and twisting it so hard the thing snapped right off. Dean picked Gabriel up, slung him over one shoulder and grabbed Anna's hand.

"Come on, the last rocket while your Dada has that thing distracted," he said. But they had barely taken a step towards it when a man came running out of the tunnel, firing a laser gun at them. That time, Anna got her shield up quickly. Dean glanced around wildly, searching for the pack of weapons, but it had fallen off when he got knocked to his feet. He spotted it lying crushed beneath some rubble. The man, Devil's Advocate, Dean presumed, reached the final rocket and climbed up into the belly of its metal spider.

"Dammit!" he swore as the rocket took off.

"Dad, what do we do now?" Anna whimpered.

"We need to stop that spider and get to the jet. And figure out where the fuck that rocket spider went."

Anna stared at him, and he realized what he'd said. "Sorry, hell. Where the hell that rocket spider went."

Up in the air, Castiel used the broken arm like a harpoon and shoved it into the metal spider. Dean dragged Anna away as the thing imploded on itself.

"Cas!" he yelled. "Follow us to the jet!"

He found the jet by walking into the ladder. He just hoped it had survived the destruction of the launch pad without too much damage. If not, they were screwed.

***

Castiel held Gabriel while Dean flew the jet. Their son was awake, and insisted he was fine, but Castiel felt better touching him. So did Anna.

"Anna, seriously, you don't need to hold my hand," Gabriel complained.

"Yes, I do. Gabe, I need to tell Dada. Is that okay?"

"Tell me what?" Castiel asked.

Anna waited until Gabriel had sighed and nodded his head.

"I didn't really get tattoos. Gabe put them on. I just wanted to see what they would look like, and . . ."

Castiel frowned. "And if this boy liked them, then you would get real tattoos?"

"But only after I asked you guys first!" Anna gave him a pleading look. "Please don't blame Gabe, I asked him to do it."

Castiel blinked. How had he failed to notice how close the kids had grown to each other? He supposed it was only natural, they moved so often many times they were each other's only friends for months at a time. He had never felt such a bond with his own brothers, but Dean had that with Sam. They were lucky.

"We wouldn't blame Gabriel, Anna," he said. He wanted to tell her that, in the scheme of things, temporary tattoos were rather small potatoes indeed. But you didn't tell a teenager that anything they had done was small potatoes. He didn't need Sam to tell him that. "You needn't worry."

"Well I'm thrilled that I don't have to bust the kneecaps of a tattoo artist," Dean called from the cockpit. "And if we're done sharing and caring, I've got Sam on the line." He hit a button, and Sam's voice filled the interior of the jet.

"We found out who Devil's Advocate is!" he yelled.

"Indoor voice, Sammy," Dean murmured.

"Sorry," Sam continued at a normal decibel. "His name's Nick Lucifer, and he's the CEO of Lilith Cosmetics – named the company after his sister, who died twenty-one years ago when a superhero failed to save her. And get this – he doesn't have any powers. He totally just adopted the persona of Devil's Advocate to tap into the supporters of the dead arch nemesis."

"He acted like I should have remembered his voice," Castiel said, frowning.

"Cas! Great to hear you, man!" Sam said happily. "My diagnosis of Nick Lucifer? Batshit insane. I honestly think he may have convinced himself that he's _always_ been Devil's Advocate. In fact – hang on, I'm getting another call – Ruby? Is that you?"

_"Of course it's me! Sam, you're ten minutes late. Where are you?"_

"I'm a bit tied up – I'm going to have to postpone."

Anna winced and Gabriel stifled a laugh. Castiel's own lips twitched.

_"I'm sorry, it sounded to me like you said you wanted to postpone. But that can't be right."_

"I'm kind of saving the world right now, Ruby."

_"I thought you said_ I _was your world."_

Dean made an exaggerated gagging noise.

_"What was that?"_

"Dammit, Dean!"

_"You're on the phone with your brother? Sam Winchester, you are on the couch tonight!"_

There was a loud clicking noise.

"Um," Sam continued sheepishly. "Sorry about that. Where was I?"

A large crash sounded over the comm link, and then Balthazar's voice filled the jet.

"Uncle Sam, there's a big metal spider walking down the street!"

"Devil's Advocate is inside that machine." Castiel wished he could see his youngest son's face right then, but he would have to settle for his voice. "Balthazar, stay with Sam. Our ETA is two minutes."

"Dada, guess what?" Balthazar started, but they didn't get a chance to guess as the comms went dead.

Castiel looked at his children's stricken faces. "Do not be afraid," he said, much more calmly than he felt. "And strap yourselves into something. Your Dad is going to get us there in thirty seconds."

***

Sam could hear Ava shriek as the tentacle bowling ball smashed into phone lines and cars out on the street. _That thing better stay away from the Impala or Dean's going to kill me._ He chucked his shirt and kicked off his pants, revealing his Awesome costume beneath, as he ran towards the office door.

"Wait for me!" Balthazar called after him, struggling to get his jeans off over his sneakers.

Sam wanted to tell him to stay with Bobby, keep out of harm's way, but just then a tentacle shot through the window and grabbed him by the waist.

_What good is seeing the future if I don't see shit like this?_

He had seen his hand on the knife, though, and he twisted in the thing's grip to reach his boot and pull it out of its sheath. He started slashing wildly at the tentacle holding him when his brother fell out of sky and onto the bowling ball. His mouth dropped open. And then three more Deans dropped out of the sky.

"What the hell?"

"I'm the real one," the Dean closest to his tentacle said. The other Deans ran around the top of the ball as it lurched down the street. "Toss me that knife and I'll cut you loose."

Sam managed the exchange without slicing anyone's fingers off. "Dean, what–"

"Gabriel's doing," his brother grunted, sawing through metal and wire. "Be prepared, in about two seconds, your ass is hitting the ground."

But Sam could already see it, and when he fell, he rolled right to avoid getting trampled, ducked a tentacle before it could take off his head and caught the knife without even looking when Dean threw it down to him.

Up in the air, Castiel was flying circles around the waving tentacles, and despite the fact that the guns seemed to be firing at him, no bullets were reaching him. Sam caught a clue when he spotted Anna's red hair hanging out of the invisible jet. She was making shields. On some other day, he wanted to talk with her about what this evolution of her powers meant, but right then he had a bowling ball to destroy.

He dove away from another swipe of a tentacle and came up on his feet next to his brother.

"Are you really Dean?" he asked.

"Are you really a pretty princess?" Dean asked. Yup, it was totally him. They ran together beneath the bowling ball as it continued to wreak a path of destruction up the street.

"What's our grand plan for defeating this thing?"

"Blow it up!" Dean yelled.

"Awesome plan, Dean. But with what?"

"Itself! Help me grab a spider arm!"

Easier said than done. Dean leaped for one, missed and went stumbling beneath the legs. Castiel dived down and lifted him back to his feet.

"Cas, Dean, this isn't working!" Sam yelled over the destruction of a couple of cars. "It's too thick. We need to get Devil's Advocate out of it and get his remote."

"Wait, remote?" Dean asked.

"He doesn't have powers, remember? Bobby looked up the type of stuff that was delivered to the island – not just stuff to make these bowling balls–"

"Metal spiders," Dean interrupted.

"Machines," Cas interrupted.

"Whatever," Sam said. "There was also stuff to control these things."

"Great. Let's ring his bell and see if he's home." All three of them had to duck then, and when they regrouped, Dean picked back up where he left off. "Cas can fly me up to the hatch, I'll punch it in, and out will pop Devil's Advocate."

Sam was about to tell him that wouldn't work when the vision overtook him. He stopped abruptly. "We need Balthazar."

"We're not putting our kid in this thing's path!" Dean protested. "Balthazar would be torn to shreds! What's he going to do, tell it knock-knock jokes? Devil's Advocate isn't going to open up, Sam."

"Balthazar can walk through walls," Sam said simply.

"Oh," Castiel breathed. "That's wonderful news."

"Yeah, we'll never have a shred of privacy ever again," Dean grumbled. "And I'm still not letting him fight my fight for me."

"This is an everyone fight, Dean," Sam argued. "And in case you've forgotten, that's Anna and Gabriel hanging out of an invisible jet back there."

Dean opened and closed his mouth several times. The tentacles began firing at them in earnest, Anna's shields keeping them safe.

"Dean," Castiel said quietly. "He would be with me."

Dean closed his eyes and nodded quickly. "Let's get this over with."

***

Balthazar came running the minute his fathers called to him. He looked so very small running down the destroyed street. Bobby followed at a slower pace, a pack slung across his back. Anna was watching to send up a shield if they needed it, but it appeared the machine had decided Sam and Dean were more dangerous threats, and the boy and man made it safe to where Castiel crouched in the doorway of a Kwiki Mart. 

"Balthazar, I need you to show me your power," Castiel said.

Balthazar glowed with excitement as he thrust his hand through the glass door and wiggled his fingers at them.

"Can you bring things through with you?" Castiel asked, the crux of the matter.

"Watch!" He grabbed Bobby's hat, clutching it tight, and then pushed his fist through the door.

"Very good," Castiel murmured. "Can you be very brave for me?"

"I can be as brave as Gabe!"

"Then that is very brave indeed. Bobby, what do you have that will do the trick?"

Bobby set his pack on the ground and rooted around in it. "Stink bomb," he said finally, pulling out a small gray grenade-shaped object. Castiel was grateful he'd chosen a non-lethal bomb. There were some lines he was not ready to have his twelve-year-old cross.

"Here, kid," Bobby said, handing the stink bomb to Balthazar. "Keep your thumb here," he indicated the pin, "and once your hand's inside, flick it and back out. Nick Lucifer will have to open the hatch within five seconds, so you and your Dada move out of the way."

There was a loud groan from the direction of the machine, and the three of them peeked around the corner to see Dean skidding across the street.

"We're leaving now," Castiel announced. His arms circled his son's waist and his knees bent for the takeoff and then they were airborne. Castiel dodged flying tentacles and Anna sent up shield after shield to keep the bullets off them. Balthazar screamed once when a bullet scored Castiel's shoulder.

"It's okay, Balthazar," Castiel assured him, hoping he could hear his voice over the sound of the wind. "I won't let you fall."

They reached the hatch a minute later and Castiel held his breath as Balthazar slowly forced his hand inside.

"It's very thick," he whispered.

"Can you fit?" Castiel asked him.

"Um . . . yes! Dada, I just did it!"

"Get your hand out quickly," Castiel reminded him. He had barely snatched it back when the hatch was thrown open and Devil's Advocate toppled out. He landed with a thud on the ground below, coughing and gasping.

Castiel set Balthazar on the ground and sent him running back to Bobby. He joined Sam as Devil's Advocate made it to his feet. Around his neck hung a gold chain, and from the chain was their prize.

"Sam," Castiel said in a low voice.

"Yes, I See it."

Castiel made note of the capitalization in his voice and flew directly at the man formerly known as Nick Lucifer. Sam ran after him, and out of the corner of his eye, Castiel could see Dean rising to his feet. All three of them converged on Devil's Advocate. He didn't stand a chance against Team Free Will. He slashed at Castiel with a three pronged dagger, raking shallow lines across his chest, but Dean tackled him and Sam darted in, snapping the chain off.

All of the tentacles focused on Sam, as if they could see their doom in him, and Castiel shouted to Anna for a shield for Sam before Devil's Advocate got him in the jaw with a mean left hook. Sam ignored the commotion around him and slowly took control of each tentacle.

The combined firepower created a boom loud enough to wake the dead, and great pieces of the machine flew outward, only to hit Anna's shield and fall to the ground. The machine teetered a moment, then toppled slowly forward.

The sudden silence was broken only by the sobs of Devil's Advocate as his dreams for world domination went up in a puff of smoke.

***

There was a lot of collateral damage. Dean grimaced, surveying the wreckage from his seat on a pile of rubble. He and Ava would have to change offices. If they stayed in this town. If they didn't get arrested.

"What are you thinking?" Cas asked him.

Dean watched his brother and Bobby talking to the police chief and Ava, and some spook in a suit they'd called in to tell about the other Lilith Cosmetics locations. Dean doubted Nick Lucifer had built launch pads at any of the others yet, but there was only one way to find out. Lucifer himself was way too crazy to be a reliable witness. Sam was gesturing with his hands, but the show was lost on the chief, who couldn't take his eyes off the burn out husk of the metal spider. Ava couldn't stop scribbling in her notebook.

"Was thinking about moving," Dean admitted.

"I don't want to move," Cas said. 

"No?"

"No."

Dean squinted up at him. "It might not be up to us, you know."

Cas shook his head. "No. I'm tired of being told where to live, what to do. We're needed, Dean. I'm done with hiding. Look at our children."

Dean followed his gaze to Anna and the boys. All three were laughing as Gabriel threw rocks through Balthazar's head.

"I want them to always be so happy," Cas said softly.

"We were happy, when we were Team Free Will. Remember?"

"Yes. And we were happy today. Weren't we?"

Bambi McSnuffy joined the kids when Gabriel snapped his fingers. Anna rolled her eyes and Balthazar turned bright red.

"I'm always happy when I'm with you, Cas. You know that." A muscle twitched in Dean's jaw. It was a giveaway, he knew, but he couldn't stop it.

"I love you, too," Cas said it so simply. Dean had always believed him.

"No more secrets?" he asked.

"I do have one." Cas's lips twitched. "I would like pizza again tonight."

Dean looked up, startled, then leaned back. "Why, Mr. Awesome, are you trying to seduce me?"

"Yes." He held out his hand and Dean grasped it to haul himself up. A muffled groan escaped him. He'd been tossed around an awful lot that day.

"Kids," he called to them, "say good night to your uncles and Ava. Tonight, we shall feast on pizza! Again."

He patted down his costume while the kids hugged or shook hands with Bobby, Sam and Ava. "Bobby," he said, "thanks for the ride." He tossed the keys to the invisible jet to Bobby.

"Don't be a stranger," Bobby grumbled back.

"Same to you. Hey, Sam, you have something for me?" Dean held out his hand expectantly. Sam gave him a wry smile as the keys to the Impala flew through the air.

"Hopefully a building didn't fall on top of her," Sam said.

"You're a riot, Sammy."

Anna ducked under one shoulder, and Castiel the other, as they picked their way slowly down the street.

"Dad?" Gabriel asked eventually.

"Yeah?"

"If we become full-time superheroes, does that mean we no longer have to go to school?"

Dean exchanged a glance with Cas. "No," they said in unison.

***

They were lucky. The Impala had indeed escaped unscathed.

***

And the pizza was very good.


End file.
